Ten Days Abroad
by 46AmityBread46
Summary: Clary Fray thought that it would be a good idea to sign up for the British exchange programme at her school. Her thoughts all changed when she realised who she was stuck with. Clace. AU. AH.
1. Prologue - 9 Years Ago

Clary Fray had heard of the boy who stayed at Mrs. Herondale's house every winter and summer break. Alec and Isabelle had told her all about their new friend and Clary was excited that she'd finally be able to meet him. She ran up the stairs from the subway; she wanted to play with him _now_. Clary took her mother's hand and tugged.

"We're gonna be late Mom. Simon's probably already there!" she exclaimed. Her mother nodded, distracted, listening to whoever was on the phone.

She dragged her mother behind her as she ran down the pavement. Her light sundress was flying behind her, her red curls bouncing. The sun felt good on her bare arms and she wanted it to be summer always.

"Come on Mom! I wanna play with them," she called, looking back at her mother who was still on the phone. She had on a worried expression as the call ended.

"Honey," her mother said gently, "I don't think you'll be able to play with Mr. Herondale's son today."

"Why can't I? Izzy said I could. And Simon's gonna be there." Clary looked confused.

"Yes, but..." She paused and Clary could tell that something was off. After a short pause, in which her mother was probably figuring out what say, she said: "He's not here with us any more. Something happened and he had to go back to England."

"Can I play with him soon though?" Clary asked.

Jocelyn paused before saying, "I don't think so darling. But," she added hurriedly, upon seeing Clary's face, "you can still play with Izzy and Simon."

"Okay."

Dissapointed, Clary held her mother's hand as they crossed the street to the Lightwood's house. The house next door - Mrs Herondale's - was missing the car that was usually parked in the driveway. The house itself looked cold and empty with its curtains drawn closed.

As her mother rang the doorbell, Clary thought that she'd probably never see the Herondale boy again.

**Review if you think I should continue or if you have any ideas I should add to my story. I may or may not add them but thanks for reading! (Next chapter they're going to be older) **


	2. The Day Before

Clary slammed her locker shut, only to see Simon behind it.

"Sooo..." Simon began.

Clary groaned. "I already told you Simon, I'm not going to listen to Eric's poetry. I went last time and the time before. Why don't you ask someone else?"

Simon put his arm around her shoulders. "I take you because your my bestest ever friend," He said, grinning. "I'll even buy you coffee."

Clary pretended to consider the offer, but she knew that she was going to go. She'd enjoyed Simon's company ever since she was little. Nearly all of her childhood memories had Simon in them.

"Fine," She replied, shouldering her bag.

They pushed through the crowds of milling students into the warm weather of June. There were people on the grass outside in groups of all sizes. The sun cast bright rays, the weather hinting a hot summer.

Once outside of the school gates, Simon began to discuss the new names that he was considering for his band. "I was thinking of Meatball Expeditions but Matt's still leaning towards Melodious Bats. What do you think?"

Clary tapped her foot impatiently as she waited for the traffic lights to change. "I think you should have a few more options. No offence Simon but they're both terrible."

The light changed to green and they crossed. "I thought friends were supposed to be supportive," Simon said, teasingly.

"I am. I'm giving constructive criticism," Clary replied.

They lapsed into a comfortable silence before Clary broke it, asking a question that had been bothering her for a while now, "You and Izzy. What's going on with you guys?"

Simon gave her a confused look. Instantly, Clary saw straight through it.

"What about Izzy?" Simon asked, acting as if her questions were slightly strange. Clary had known Simon ever since her first day in kindergarten. She could tell whenever Simon was lying.

"Is anything going on between you two?"

"Other than the fact that we're friends, there is nothing between us Clary. Why? Were you about to confess your undying love for me?" Simon said. She knew he was trying to change the subject. So she let him. She knew that if there was anything he'd tell her in his own time.

"You wish," Clary said nudging him in the arm.

They opened the door to Java Jones, a place where they often spent their time. The coffee shop was full of threadbare couches and rugs, the colours dull and muted after years of use. It was dark in the corners and the scent of clove cigarettes hung about the air.

As Clary headed towards a dark corner towards the back of the place, Simon went to fetch the coffee. Clary hoped that they were far enough away from Eric that he wouldn't see and approach them after his performance. She didn't want to be associated with him after he'd read his poetry.

Soon, Simon came back with two steaming mugs of coffee. He handed the black coffee to Clary.

"I don't know how you drink that stuff it's disgusting," Simon said, taking a small sip of his.

Clary shrugged. "I like it. It's got a strong flavour."

They sat in a comfortable silence for a few minutes, sipping their drinks carefully. They heard the sound of someone tapping a microphone before they saw Eric. He had pink dye tinging the tips of his brown hair.

"Oh my God," Simon groaned when Eric opened his mouth. A noise similar to that of a sheep being run over came out of Eric's mouth. Words were pouring out of his mouth, creating questionable stanzas.

"If anyone asks," Simon said, slumping down in his seat, "I do not know him."

Clary laughed. "Okay Simon."

After a few minutes of which Simon seemed to be in agony, Eric finally ended his poetry recital. He looked around the room for a second, before spotting Simon and Clary. Dodging various people, he made his way over to Simon.

"Thanks man for coming, but I need to get home," Eric clapped Simon on the shoulder. "See you tomorrow."

He walked out of the door and into the sunny afternoon.

"Does Eric write the lyrics of your songs?" Clary asked.

"No he plays the drums."

"Huh. I didn't think he could play an instrument. Anyways who've you got for the English exchange?"

Simon took out his phone. "Wait a sec... He sent me a picture of himself... Yeah, here it is."

Clary took his phone and blinked. "He's hot."

"Hotter than me?" Simon joked.

Clary squinted teasingly at him. "Hmm... I think he's hotter."

Simon took his phone back. "Betrayed by my best friend. The worst kind of betrayal," Simon said faking hurt.

"So, what's his name?"

"Jordan Kyle."

At that moment, her mom rang her phone.

"Clary Jon's home so we're going out for dinner. I don't care where you are but I we're leaving in 15 minutes," Jocelyn said, as soon as Clary picked up.

"Okay, okay. I'm coming."

She hung up and started gathering up her stuff up. Lately, her mother had been stressed at her upcoming marriage to Luke Garroway.

"Where're you going?" Simon asked.

"Jon's home now and we're going out for dinner."

"Can we get coffee tomorrow then?"

"Simon, the exchange students are coming tomorrow."

Simon grumbled and Clary could just make out the words 'dead', 'between' and 'coffee'. He raised his hand in a half-hearted wave as Clary left.

The warm air hit her again. It was nice for it to be warm after such a cold winter. She slipped her headphones in as she headed towards her house.

After crossing a few roads, and dodging a couple pedestrians, she finally arrived at their brownstone in Park Slope. She went through the marble entryway and up the wooden stairs to their three bedroom apartment.

Unlocking the door, she was met with the sight of her brother Jonathan lounging on the dark red sofa. He was watching something on the TV. Crumbs were strewn across Jocelyn's handmade pillows.

"Hey Clary."

Clary grinned at the sight of her brother. She had not seen him for weeks.

"You realise that we're gonna have dinner in a few minutes."

"Have you seen the food they have at my school. I'm not even sure it can be classed as food." He stuffed another muffin into his mouth.

At that moment someone knocked on the door and Clary opened it to see the smiling face of Luke. He had brown hair and bright blue eyes behind gold rimmed glasses.

"Hi Clary. Jon you ready?" Luke asked.

Jonathan, who was currently wiping crumbs from his shirt, mumbled something through a mouthful of muffin. Dodging Jon, Jocelyn walked out of the kitchen and gave Luke a hug her arms wrapped around his neck. She leaned in close.

Clary gave a look of disgust to Jon who grinned in return.

"C'mon Clary, Jon," Jocelyn called out over her shoulder as she headed outside.

Once inside Luke's battered up pickup truck, Jocelyn started to talk about the wedding. Clary listened, bored. Her mother could ramble on for hours about the wedding. Currently, she was asking Luke about the colour of the flowers. Whenever she asked a question to Luke, he nodded distractedly in agreement.

Jon had his eyes closed, headphones in. Clary wished she had brought hers.

The roads were heavy with traffic and it took them a long time to get to Manhattan, which was where the restaurant was. Car horns and the sounds of thousands of people living their lives could be heard on the bustling roads.

Eventually, Luke stopped near the restaurant they were going to: Taki's.

Inside it was cozy looking with wooden booths nestled against each other. There was mismatched crockery and cutlery on the shelves behind the counter. A blonde haired girl called back orders to a chef with white hair.

Jon inhaled deeply. "Mmm, the smell of proper food," he said with smile upon his face as he leaned back in their booth.

Once they were seated the blonde lady came over to their table, wiping her hands on her apron. According to her name tag, the she was called 'Kaelie'. She took their orders in a bored voice.

When she had left, Jocelyn spoke, "So Jon how's school? What were the results on your end of year biology test?" she said switching into her motherly mode.

Jon had won a scholarship to a supposedly fancy boarding school in a different state. That meant that one day visits like this were infrequent.

"Uhh well it's good. I've improved quite a bit in chemistry." Clary knew that Jon was trying to be evasive. If her mother found out about the real answers on the biology test she would become more stressed than she already was. Clary did not want to spend the rest of her week alone with an over stressed mother.

Jocelyn continued asking questions about his life at school. Jon avoided most of her questions. Clary knew that he had a lot of practice from previous holidays that he had spent at home.

When Kaelie finally returned to their booth, she served the meal. She placed a plate of spaghetti in front of Clary before flouncing off.

Clary picked up her fork and toyed with her spaghetti. She was slightly nervous about the whole exchange programme tomorrow. A person she had never met before would be living in her house tomorrow for ten days. Afterwards, she would fly over to their house in England and stay with them for ten days. What if she didn't like the was person staying with? All she had about them was a picture and a short email, no more than 100 words.

Jon, who had noticed that she wasn't eating, nudged her slightly. He swallowed his mouthful of fries and looked at her, his green eyes questioning. "Why aren't you eating?"

Clary stuck a forkful of spaghetti into her mouth before swallowing. "What are talking about?"

Jon shrugged and started on his second burger. Clary watched in equal parts awe and bewilderment.

Later on that evening, Clary sat at her desk attempting to draw a picture of Central Park. Everyone else had gone to their rooms, except for Jon. He was sleeping on the sofa as his room had been prepared for Clary's exchange partner. At first Jon had grumbled and moaned, but Jocelyn pointed out that Jon would be gone tomorrow morning anyway.

Clary looked at the picture of Central Park. She had taken it last autumn. The trees were an array of colours: gold, scarlet and primrose yellow. The sky above was clear and and the colour of the ice cold pond beneath. Dew droplets glittered under the pale light of the morning.

Suddenly, her phone rang, breaking the calm atmosphere in her room. "Izzy!" Clary hissed as soon as she picked up her phone.

"Who did you get as your exchange partner?" Izzy began by way of greeting.

"Aline Penhallow. Why?"

"Because I hoped you'd get a boy." Clary could hear the disappointment in her voice.

"Of course I wasn't gonna get a boy."

"Didn't you want a hot English guy?" Izzy said teasingly.

Clary ignored her. "I bet you didn't put down that you wanted a girl on your form."

"You know I didn't do it. Who wants some random stranger in their house?"

"Well Simon got a guy," Clary said as she turned back to her picture, her phone wedged between her shoulder and ear.

"Oooh is he hot?" Izzy asked, instantly perking up.

"I guess..."

"Oh wel - wait..." Clary could hear Izzy placing her hand over the speaker. A few seconds passed by before Izzy hurriedly whispered into the phone. "Gotta go. See you tomorrow."

Izzy hung up the phone as Clary stared at her phone in confusion. Shrugging it off, Clary turned off her desk lamp and fell into bed. Perhaps Izzy had seen a rip in her dress. Or maybe she had lost an earring.

With these thoughts in mind, Clary slowly drifted to sleep.

**_I'm kinda not happy with this chapter. It just doesn't feel right. So if you have any criticism then review below(it's much needed) . Thank you for reading_****_! _**


	3. Day 1

Clary sat tapping her foot nervously. She was in the auditorium, wedged between Simon and a random girl who she could not name. The chatter of the the other students in the hall filled the room, spilling into the hallway outside. The scent of dust and polished wood clung to the air.

The headmistress, a woman in her late thirties, was talking to a man with white hair next to her. They were looking at pile of papers, occasionally pointing to something on it. A group of about 40 students sat behind them, the exchange students.

Finally, the headmistress, Ms Fairchild, called for the noise to subside. Gradually, it fell down. Once she was satisfied she began. "Good morning to everyone here and may I just start off with thanking every student here. Thank you for taking a student into your home for 10 days and looking after them. I ensure that this will be an amazing experience. Not only will it boost your language skills and cultural knowledge some of you may even make life long friends in the days you will spend with them.

"The way that this is going to work is that I'm going to call the name of your British partner and afterwards I will call your name. Then they will stay with you for the rest of your week and have the same classes as you, if you're unsure at any point just consult the itinerary booklet handed out prior to this assembly." Behind her, the older man was glaring at one of his students. Clary assumed that he was the teacher supervising them on their trip.

"Okay the first student is Liam Brown," Ms Fairchild began. "He is partnered with Jon Cartwright."

She continued on like this until everyone had their partner. Simon went then the girl beside Clary. Soon she was the only student left. She didn't see Aline Penhallow anywhere on the stage.

Ms Fairchild beckoned her to the stage where she was standing. "Ah," she checked her paper, "Clarissa Fray. I'm sure that by now you are aware that Aline Penhallow is not here. She dropped out of the program at the last minute but luckily there was a waiting list and it had a few people on it. So don't worry you will still be able to participate but just with a different person."

It was then that Clary noticed that there was another student on the stage. They were at the back, practically in the wings.

They got up when the man with the white hair called for them. As the shadows slowly melted off them, Clary realised that they had blond hair and unusual eyes, the colour of the sun on golden autumn leaves. But while that image was calm his eyes had a slightly harder tone to them.

"Clarissa, this is Jonathon Montclaire. Jonathon this is Clarissa Fray."

Jonathan. This would be confusing. Ms Fairchild smiled at Clary, clearly waiting for something.

"Umm. Good morning - I mean - uhh hello," Clary stuttered. Why did she have to be stuck with some random guy? She didn't _want_a guy.

Jonathon looked at her with a slight smirk on his lips. He seemed to be amused when she stumbled on her words.

"Hi Clarissa," he said, in an accented voice. But it wasn't a British accent, it was a French accent.

Ms Fairchild smiled at them. "Well off to your lessons now!"

Deep in conversation with the older man, she left them. Clary suddenly felt awkward. What were you supposed to say to a person who you never knew before?

But she didn't have to say anything because Jonathon began to speak, "I'm not actually that good at English. I moved from France a little bit of weeks ago."

"Oh okay. That's fine." Clary didn't know what else to say. Not only did she not get a girl but she also got someone who didn't speak the same language as her. She began to question why she ever wanted to do this exchange.

"Follow me then," Clary said waving her arm in case he didn't understand.

He did understand as he walked beside her.

"You can call me Clary by the way," she said, pushing her way through a bunch of girls gathered around a single locker. They turned to glare at her before catching sight of Jonathan. Instantly, they were reduced to a bunch of giggling girls when he glanced at them. Jonathan seemed to enjoy the attention because he smirked at one of them. She turned back to her other friends, everyone else looking envious, when Jonathan left.

Clary glared at the air in front of her. She had to be stuck with him. She had encountered a few people before like him. None of those encounters she wanted to remember.

Looking over her shoulder, she saw Jonathan sauntering through the corridors. The look upon his face told her that he was used to all the attention.

Once in the correct classroom, Clary sat down at her desk and pulled out her sketchbook. Her English teacher never seemed to notice that she spent the majority of the lesson drawing. Her grades were good and that was all that mattered to anyone.

She tapped the edge of her pencil on the table. She was contemplating whether or not to do the sketch in colour or pencil. When she glanced up, she noticed that Jonathan was sitting next to her and not amidst the girls at the front.

Placing his briefcase down on he table, Hodge Starkweather - her English teacher - smiled at the class. He was apparently oblivious to the groans and looks of annoyance upon his students's faces. When his eyes landed on Jonathon, they lit up.

"So you're the exchange student. What's your name?"

"Jace Montclaire," he answered. Clary didn't understand how 'Jace' could be short for 'Jonathan', but she didn't question it. After all, she wouldn't confuse him with her brother's name anymore.

Mr Starkweather pushed his glasses up his nose. "Well Jace welcome to my class. I hope you enjoy your stay here at St Xavier's," Mr Starkweather said slowly. He seemed confused for a moment, as if debating internally what to say. He blinked and then turned around.

Chalk in hand, he spoke while he wrote the date. "Continue the work from our previous lesson and for those of you who don't know what to do, it'll be on the board. And Clary," he said, when he noticed that she was next to Jace, "explain everything to Jace."

Sighing, Clary pulled out her copy of Macbeth and placed it between them. She flipped open the book to the correct scene. Glancing over at Jace, Clary saw that he had an exercise book out, his pen in hand.

"Sooo. . ." Clary trailed off, unsure how to explain it to Jace. She herself didn't know much French and decided to use hand actions to help him understand.

She pointed to the Act 2 Scene 1 in Macbeth and began talking, "We're supposed to find the meanings," she pointed to the dictionary in her hand, "of the underlined words," she pointed to one of them, "and write them down." She mimicked writing with her pen.

Jace's face was blank but his eyes were ever so slightly amused. He nodded after a moment and looked at the text. Clary turned away and picked up her pencil. She began sketching a large oak in the corner of her sketchbook. The tip of the pencil barely brushed the page, leaving behind wispy lines. Slowly, the trunk of the tree began to form. For once, Clary thought it was near enough perfect. It looked as if her mother's hand had been holding the pencil and not Clary's own.

Clary began to sketch the branches but they quickly turned out not perfect. To Clary it looked as if the tree had been struck by lightning and not as if it was gently letting its leaves go. She ripped it out of her book and dropped it into her bag. Not even a rubber could save that tree. Maybe she'd be able to draw it better later.

Quickly, she looked to her left. Jace's eyes were on the dictionary but she could have sworn they were looking at her drawing a moment before. Glancing down at his page, Clary's eyes widened. In a slightly messy handwriting, Jace had written the meanings of at least 15 of the underlined words.

So he had understood her.

Clary walked up the steps to her house as Simon waved goodbye behind her. Walking into the foyer of the building, she saw Jace look around the building, his eyes landing in the skylight above.

Once Clary had closed the door to their apartment, she decided that she may as well show Jace around the house. She motioned for him over

"This," Clary began, "is your room."

The door was open to an average sized bedroom that had been stripped of most of its personal embellishments. The posters that used to adorn the walls had disappeared, leaving behind a very faint outline where they had once resided. The clothes in the wardrobe and drawers had temporarily been put away in boxes. They were currently stacked in Jocelyn's room.

Clary stepped aside as Jace carried his suitcase in and placed it at the foot of the bed. After she had shown him the rest of the apartment, which hadn't taken too long, Jocelyn came through the front door in a loose mint green shirt.

Upon seeing Clary, she smiled but her eyes travelled to Jace and Clary could see equal parts surprise and confusion in them. She looked at Clary warily. "Is this your boyfriend?"

Clary stared at her mom, her mouth parted. "Of course not! He's the exchange student."

Jace came forward and took Jocelyn's hand. "Jace Montclaire, Madame..." he trailed off.

"Fray. Jocelyn Fray." She looked equal parts stunned and confused. It was probably because of his accent. So Clary decided to clear her mother's confusion.

"Aline dropped out so Jace got partnered with me. He also can't speak much English 'cause he moved from France a few weeks back."

Jace just continued to smile at Jocelyn. "Thank you much for allowing me to stay here."

Clary could tell that Jocelyn was still surprised at Jace's presence.

Two hours later they were seated around the small dining room. Currently, Jocelyn, who could speak French, was deep in conversation with Jace. On the other hand, Clary was a million miles away, completely wrapped up in her thoughts.

They kept drifting to her artwork and the new sketches she had done. Her latest sketch was of a guy brandishing a large sword. It was one sketch that she actually liked.

Clary broke away from her thoughts and speared a carrot on the end of her fork. She turned her attention to her mother and Jace's conversation. Her knowledge of French was limited but she knew enough to understand that they were discussing school.

At first glance, Jace appeared to be engaged in the conversation. But upon closer inspection, Clary realised that he was distracted. She caught sight of the way that he absentmindedly fiddled with his napkin or when he glanced at his watch subtlety every few minutes. When she looked up, Jace was looking at her. He had noticed that she was staring at him and consequently threw a smirk at her.

She was unfazed by it and continued with her dinner. One question still prodded her though: _why was Jace so nervous? __

**I wrote this chapter ****a long time ago (September I think) ****and as I edited it right now I realised how badly this doesn't flow! But I think this is the last bad chapter. I hope.**

**I just wanted to say THANK YOU SO MUCH for all the favourites, follows and reviews! I realise that a lot of authors say this but I've never understand just how happy follows and stuff make them until recently. So thank you all so much again!! **


	4. Day 2

Clary fumbled with her phone as her alarm blared out through its speakers. Once she had dealt with her alarm, she collapsed back amongst her pillows. Her eyes were half open and she could only see smudges of an orange wall and a wooden door.

Ten minutes later, she realised that if she didn't get out of bed she would be late. As she walked groggily into the kitchen, she saw a small note with Jocelyn's neat handwriting on it: gone to Luke's see you in the evening

This often happened and Clary was not in the least bit surprised so she headed over to cupboards to get the coffee. As she waited for it to brew, she sat down at the table, eyes closed.

A few minutes later, she had the mug in her hand and she stared at the wall, her mind completely dull. Before the caffeine kicked in, her mind was sluggish. The most complex thoughts she had ever had would have been if she should have had anything besides coffee. She shifted her gaze to the clock, slowly taking in the time. The ticking noise filled the room, bouncing off the smooth wooden surfaces. It was quiet in the house, almost as if Jace wasn't there. She tilted the mug slightly watching the dark coffee as it moved.

Once she had taken the last mouthfuls of the scalding hot liquid, Clary immediately felt better. The caffeine woke her up and the tiredness that was dragging her down disappeared.

Placing the mug in the sink, she realised that she would probably have to wake Jace if she wanted to get to school on time.

The hallway outside of his room was covered in paintings that Jocelyn had made. The entire house was full of Jocelyn's artistic personality, with embroidered pillows in the living room and hand sculpted vases in the kitchen.

She paused outside Jace's bedroom door. She could hear low murmurings coming from behind his door.

"No don't do that! I'll talk later as well." The voice that she heard was male and spoke in a British accent.

Silence.

The voice was definitely Jace's but with a different accent and speaking a language that she thought he couldn't speak.

She heard a laugh. "Okay. I love you. Bye."

Clary twisted the handle of the door open and stood on the threshold of Jace's room. Jace himself was sitting on the edge of the bed, phone in hand. His hair was tousled and the thin stream of sunlight coloured the strands of his hair a glowing gold.

"You're not French?"

Jace's head whipped up. His eyes were wide but he quickly recovered. "Generally if you live in a country you are that nationality and I live in France. Well at least I used to."

"But you spoke English. In a British accent." Even though Clary's mind was whirling from the new information, she knew that she sounded stupid.

"It's called being bilingual, Clary," Jace said.

He had got up and was now in front of her. Jace was more than 6 inches taller than her. "And if you tell anyone. . ." He glanced back at her when he was halfway down the hallway.

"Why the hell would it matter if someone knew you could speak English?" Clary was thoroughly confused. It didn't help that it was also so early in the morning.

"Well. . ." Jace trailed off his expression thoughtful. "I guess it wouldn't matter now."

With that he locked the bathroom door, leaving Clary full of unanswered questions flitting around inside her.

X_X_X

From behind the large hedge, the shouts of the soccer pitch were muffled. It also effectively split the concrete of the school from the wild plants of the garden. Weaving themselves over the smaller shrubs, large vines strangled a variety of plants. They spouted flowers that contrasted with the dark green around them and Clary wondered how plants so dirty could have flowers so white.

The sharp scent of them stung her nose, but underneath it she could smell something citrusy. Turning her head, she looked at Jace who had his arms loosely linked around his legs.

"Why did you bring me here? I may be wrong but this isn't part of the school tour," Jace said. He plucked a strand of long grass and rolled it between his fingers.

"I thought it'd be obvious. What the hell were you talking about this morning? Why can't anyone know you speak English?"

For a moment Jace was silent before he burst into laughter. "Seriously. That was all you wanted to know? Well basically I thought that if I pretended not to know English, people would leave me alone and not bug me."

"If you wanted to be alone then why did you even do the exchange?"

Jace shrugged and changed the conversation instead. "You probably already know this but I'm gonna be late today. So you can get me around 6-ish."

"Why what else do I need to know now?" asked Clary, still annoyed at him for reasons she didn't understand.

"Because we're going to visit some museum or something."

Before Clary could agree, the bell rang, signalling the beginning of their next lesson.

X_X_X

The sunlight spilt onto the leaves above her, coating them in a layer of glossy light. The sounds of Simon and Isabelle's chatter filled the garden. As Clary leant back on a knarled oak tree, she propped her sketchbook on her legs yet again. The Lightwood's garden had a calm atmosphere that Clary enjoyed. Well, it usually had a calm atmosphere. Currently, Isabelle was arguing with Simon.

"That's a terrible idea, Simon."

"No girl has ever said it was a bad idea."

"That's because you've never dated any girls properly!"

"Clary, tell her it's a great idea."

Clary looked up and was met with the sight of Isabelle's glare and Simon's crossed arms.

"What's a good idea?" she asked.

Isabelle opened her mouth but Simon cut through quickly, "Isn't it a good idea if me and my girlfriend watch Star Wars for a date?"

Clary's eyebrows were furrowed as she said, "You have a girlfriend?"

"It was a hypothetical situation," he replied, but he didn't meet her eyes.

"Well, would they like Star Wars?"

"Who doesn't like Star Wars?"

"Me, Alec, my mum, my dad..." Izzy said counting off on her fingers.

"Yeah but -

Clary ignored them as Simon continued to argue with Isabelle. Generally, they could spend ages arguing with each other, but, like this, the arguments were never serious.

She glanced up at the bush in front of her, trying to sketch the correct pattern of its leaves, when she saw Max Lightwood. He was clutching a ball to his chest and stumbling out into the garden.

"I think I'm dreaming," Clary teased as Max got closer to her. "Has Max Lightwood actually decided to go outside?"

"Hi Clary," Max said dropping onto the grass beside her.

"So why have you come outside?"

"My mom forced me too. Said reading all the time makes your eyes go bad."

Taking his glasses off, he looked up at Clary. "Have they gone bad?" he said a slight wobble in his voice. "I don't want to not be able to read ever again."

Pretending to examine his grey eyes, Clary squinted at him.

"Hmm... They look okay to me."

At this he perked up. "That's good 'cause now I can read the manga you got me."

"Max! Go play with your ball. Move around a bit." Maryse Lightwood, appeared at the entrance of the house, hands on her hips.

"You just sit around squinting at your book, play a game or something."

"But Izzy and Alec don't play with me," Max complained.

"I'll play with you," Clary said, interrupting Maryse's next response.

Clary actually enjoyed playing with Max. Clary never understood why Izzy complained about Max 'being annoying' or 'disturbing her peace'. Perhaps she would only understand if she had a younger sibling, for Clary had never thought that Max was annoying.

They headed towards the back of the garden, amongst the trees. Beneath them, the shadows of the leaves were like grey lace.

"Pass the ball to me!" Clary called, as she backed up against the fence.

Dropping the ball at his feet, Max kicked it with all he had. It didn't get very far.

"Come on Max! I know you can do better!" encouraged Clary. Although Max didn't look like it on the outside, Clary knew that he had a lot more energy than other children his age.

With his face screwed up, he kicked the ball. And it flew towards Clary. But it didn't stop by her. It soared over the fence and into the neighbouring house.

"Oops," said Max, in a small voice.

It just so happened that at that moment Isabelle and Simon had stopped bickering and were watching them. Apparently, Isabelle had seen the ball fly into the neighbour's yard because she ran towards Max.

"Go get the ball then," Izzy said, jogging towards them.

"But that's Mrs Herondale's house," Max said his voice wobbling slightly.

"Is she the one who's son died?" Clary asked, as she tried to remember which neighbour Max had complained to her about. Often, he came to Clary and told her about an old lady who glared at him whenever she saw Max.

"Yeah," Izzy answered, "but she's on holiday."

"How do you know?" Max said, defensively.

"I heard Mum say it. Now stop being such a baby and go get the ball. She won't even know you went into her yard."

Max glared at Izzy and said, "You get the ball."

Then he stomped back inside.

X_X_X

The moonlight was spilt across the back yard as if it were water. From behind the house, the rumble of traffic floated in the air. Max Lightwood wished he had brought a jacket with him because the cool night air had coaxed goosebumps from his arms. Looking up, he noticed how clear the sky was with its perfect amount of glittering stars and cresent moon.

Cautiously, he took a few steps forward. He didn't want to do what he was about to do but all evening he had felt guilty. The feeling in the pit of his stomach wasn't pleasant and it kept him from falling asleep. He wanted it gone.

Around 11pm, way past his bedtime, he realised that he wasn't going to fall asleep unless he did what he was meant to.

When he reached the bushes at the end of the garden he paused. Max could feel himself about to yawn. He had never been awake this late without his mom's permission and it made him slightly nervous. What if she woke up and saw him?

Gathering up his courage, he decided to just get the job done. That's what the characters in his books did. They were brave and in the end they always won. Max wished he was a book character.

He pushed through the gap between two bushes until he was in the next garden.

The first thing that he noticed was that it was neat. All the plants were in uniform beds around the garden and it looked as if they had been planted with the help of a ruler. As his eyes swept the garden for his ball, they landed on something nestled in between two perfectly trimmed bushes. His ball!

Sprinting across the garden, he picked it up. It was definitely his ball.

Then he heard a whisper.

A voice. It was near.

Without another thought, he bolted out of the garden with his ball to his chest. He only stopped running when he reached his bedroom and was under the covers so that he was protected by his blanket.

X_X_X

The room had changed. A lot. He remembered before when the sofas were plain pieces of furniture but now they were covered in bright colourful quilts. One particular one was handstitched, with a chain of flowers embroidered on the edge.

Methodically, Jace checked the drawers of the side table. The first one contained a set of watercolours, paintbrushes and a sketch book. With the tips of his fingers, he picked up a loose piece of paper.

It was small about the size of his palm. On it was a painting of trees bending down to a pond, their leaves floating on the surface. At the back was a scribble he could barely make out. What he could read made the word 'Cemel Rak'.

He pocketed it. Maybe it'd be useful later.

The next drawer contained a jumble of pencils and pens and scraps of paper. After looking through them, he saw that, unfortunately, they were all blank. On to the next drawer.

The last one contained three books: a beginner's guide to quilting; a French dictionary and an old school book. Immediately, Jace took out the school book, his eyes frantically searching through the pages. Perhaps this would help him. About halfway through the book, the pages had become blank and the black ink of the words had gone. He sighed in frustration.

Looking around the room, he decided that there wasn't anything else worth his attention. So he left the room and went to the next one.

Jace had had mixed feelings about this room. When he had entered the house, half of him wanted nothing more than to run to that room but the other half was afraid. After all it was _their _room. The person he hadn't seen in years.

Full of trepidation, he pushed open the bedroom and took it in. It hadn't changed. At all.

The curtains were open and the moonlight pooled around the base of the window. The bed wore the exact same sheets as they had since he had last been here. Under a pile of clothes, the chest of drawers was in the exact same position as it had been when Jace had left the room all those years ago. It was also the first place he went to examine.

Opening the first drawer, he found nothing of interest. It was full of the sort things that didn't have a place anywhere else and were consequently shoved away. Carefully, he put back a packet of sewing needles and moved onto the next drawer.

All it contained was clothes. Neat, folded clothes.

Jace's breath caught as he picked up a familiar shirt. He looked at it for a few moments, the memories flooding back into his head. Then he let it drop back into the drawer. He didn't want to leave it, but he knew that it should've stayed in that room, with all of the other memories.

Finally, in the last drawer, he found what he had set out to look for. It was full of books: reading books; school books; textbooks and manuals.

He took his time to place all of the books into piles and to look through the most important. Setting aside textbooks, he picked up the reading books instead.

Then he saw it.

An ordinary black notebook with stitching on the edges. Sure enough, as he opened it, the inscription on the inside cover was what he was looking for. The handwriting was just as he remembered it.

Jace was about to skim through its pages when he caught sight of the clock. 11:30pm. He was almost out of time. What if someone noticed what he was doing?

Quickly, he put all the books inside the drawer and hurried to the door. He scanned the room once more trying to see if anything was out of place. Luckily, it was all fine.

Jace silently left the room.

X_X_X

**_Does anyone have any TMI fanfic recommendations because I haven't read a good fanfic in a long time. I also haven't read a proper book in like weeks. The last book I read was All The Bright Places which basically made me cry for the entire day because it's soo so so good (and sad). Anyways thanks for reading, as always, and if you want to leave a review!!! _**


	5. Day 3

_La patinoire est nouvelle et grande. _

Clary remembered the first line of her translation test quite clearly. She had spent the night before trying to revise for her French exam but, when the test was in front of her, she hadn't understood a word of it.

Completely guessing, she had translated the first sentence as: *The bakery is old and grand*.

After all, the beginning part of the word 'patinoire' sounded sounded similar to 'patisserie'.

It was only now, as she received the test paper back, that she realised how badly she had done. She had only got two marks out of twenty.

"Most of you have achieved high scores and I'm very proud of you, but," Mrs Verlac said, eyes landing pointedly on Clary, "others not so much."

She could see people trying to look discreetly at her and she forced herself to look straight ahead. Some people were bad at certain subjects. That couldn't be helped, right? Beside her, Jace appeared to be trying to catch her attention, nudging her with his foot. Clary ignored him as well.

She was so caught up in her anger and humiliation that she didn't notice that everyone else was bent over there books, working and talking. Bending down beside her suddenly, Mrs Verlac began talking, "So Clary, I happened to notice that your marks were low on this test?"

Upon her face, was a smile, her head bent to the side slightly. Clary had never seen anything so infuriating.

"Now I haven't been here long," she continued, still in fake sympathy, "and I don't know if your results are like this always in French. You may be the best in the class for all I know!"

Mrs Verlac laughed, a high breathy sound. Unwillingly, Clary forced a smile onto her face.

"So do you always get this bad on your test?"

"No," Clary replied, lying through her teeth.

"Well, would you like to see me during lunch one day and go through the test with me?"

This was clearly not a question, but a command. However, Clary thought, she didn't say she had to spend a lunch time with Mrs Verlac.

"I'm good thank you," Clary replied, a polite smile on her face.

"Okay, but you know where I am when you fail your next test," she said, getting up.

Stunned, Clary watched Mrs Verlac's retreating back as she headed to the front of the class again. She hadn't thought someone would say that to her face and, while it was probably going to be true, didn't mean that it was in any way okay to say what Mrs Verlac had.

"Umm, Clary. That picture was pretty good actually. It didn't deserve that."

Still with a scowl, she turned to the side to look at Jace. He nodded at her sketch book. Without noticing, she had crumpled up her latest sketch and it was now it her tight fist.

"Are you kidding me," she muttered, as she tried to get rid of creases in the page. She had ,for once, been proud of her sketch, and hadn't spent weeks perfecting it.

"No I'm not lying, it was a good sketch," Jace said, amused.

Meeting his oddly coloured eyes, she said, "I wasn't talking to you."

"Everyone wants to talk to me."

Clary met his reply with an eye roll. "Don't you have work to do?"

"Clary, do I need to remind you that we're in a French lesson? Do you think I need to learn French?" he said leaning on the back legs of his chair, his elbows on the desk behind him. Clary waited for the shout of annoyance from the desk behind Jace ,telling him to get off their desk. But she couldn't hear it.

It could have been because the classroom was so loud - or because the girl behind him didn't mind. Clary opted for the second option.

The girl, with long brown hair, had her blue eyes wide open gazing at the back of Jace's perfect blond head. Clary glanced away from the entranced look on the girl's face. Even though Jace had only been here for a couple of days, the news of "a hot, fit guy" had spread throughout the school. Clary thought it was sort of pathetic the way that girls would stare at him through the corridors.

"Clary," Jace said suddenly, the front legs of his chair crashing to the ground.

"What?" Clary asked. She had noticed that the girl behind him was now staring forlornly at the spot were Jace's elbows had been.

"Do you need help with French?"

She hadn't expected that. She had expected some sort of arrogant, egotistical remark. Not this.

His face was open, his eyes the colour of melted butter, soft and sincere. She wanted to refuse. Clary Fray didn't need his help. But she did. Her French was appalling.

"Yes," she muttered, annoyed.

"Then do you want me to help you?" His face had a wide grin upon it. He knew that this topic bugged her. How did he know that?

"Yes."

"Say please," he taunted, still with that grin.

"Fine then: please."

"Okay. We'll start after school."

X_X_X_X_X_X_X_X_X_X_X_X_X_X_X_X_X

"We're going to someone's house now," Jordan Kyle, Simon's exchange partner, said slowly, miming a building.

"She knows I speak English, Jordan. So stop acting like an idiot," Jace said shoving him in the arm.

"Dude, I thought you were pretending to be French for the rest of the trip," Jordan exclaimed elbowing Jace back.

"Well she overheard me on the phone."

"You're an idiot."

Clary turned away from their conversation and instead strode over to Simon and Isabelle, who's heads were close together.

"Have you got your history book on you?" Clary asked, tapping Simon's shoulder. He jumped, eyes wide when he turned to look at her.

"Yeah, why?"

"'Cause I wanna copy the answers to the homework."

"Do you ever do your homework, Fray?"

"I do," Clary insisted, "just not history...or French."

"Okay, fine. I'll give it to you in a bit," said Simon, as they arrived at Eric's house.

The garage door was open and from it drifted the terrible sounds of Simon's band, attempting to play instruments. Inside, the room was dim. A drum set sat in the corner, with Eric behind it.

"Hey Lewis!" he shouted, when they were inside. "We've got a new band name."

"If you came up with it, I don't wanna hear it," Simon replied, dumping his bag in the corner. He sat down on an old chair, sharing half of it with Clary.

"I didn't come up with it, Matt did," Eric said, tapping his fingers against the drum. "It's 'The Blue Bricks'."

"That's never happening," Simon replied, slinging his hand on the back of the chair.

A sudden crash rang through the room. The source of the commotion was Kirk who had dropped a pack of soda on the ground, the metal cans rolling into all of the dark corners of the room.

"Have you ever been able to walk?" Eric asked, popping open his coke can.

Kirk threw the empty packaging at Eric's head, grinning.

"Have you ever been able to play the drums?" Kirk replied, sitting down on a speaker.

Clary tuned out the rest of their conversation. Whenever she was at Simon's 'band practice', it usually went like this, just teasing and the discussion of new names, they never actually created any music. She noticed then that Jace and Jordan were standing in the corner, quietly talking to each other. Occasionally, they would glance up, looking towards Simon. Maybe they were talking about what Jordan had done with Simon yesterday.

Izzy was sitting on the floor in the far corner, texting rapidly on her phone.

"Hey Si," Clary said, "can I have the history answers now?"

"Huh? Oh yeah sure," Simon replied, barely glancing up from his phone, "They're in my bag. You can get it. I'm gonna go to the toilet."

With that he stood up, going to the door that lead to the rest of Eric's house. Kneeling on the floor, Clary began to rummage through Simon's bag.

It was basically just full of junk. Scrunched up pieces of paper, broken pencils, sweet wrappers. Everything it contained belonged in a bin, Clary thought. After rummaging around for a few minutes she still hadn't found his history book. However, she had found a wad of gum, stuck to some tissue. When she had accidentally picked it up, she had groaned, trying to peel the gum off her palm.

"I'm gonna kill Simon," she muttered under her breath.

"I don't think you'd do well in prison."

Jumping slightly, Clary turned around to see Jace. "Yeah well, Simon needs to learn how to use a bin."

"And you think he'll learn if he's dead?"

Clary grumbled as she got up. "I'm gonna go wash this off."

Dodging a laughing Matt, Clary headed towards the entrance to the house. The hallway of the house was painted a beige colour, with wood flooring. Her steps echoed in the empty hallway. When she reached the bathroom, Clary was confused. The door was slightly ajar, even though Simon was supposed to be behind it. She forgot those thoughts when she heard something coming from behind the door.

Pushing open the door, Clary was met with something that she had not wanted to see.

Against the sink Simon and Izzy were wrapped around each other, so tight that Clary had trouble distinguishing where each of their bodies began and ended. They were kissing so fiercely that neither of them had noticed Clary's presence.

For a few moments, she stood there, shocked, before she groaned. "Oh my God guys at least lock the door, I did _not_ need to see that."

Quickly, Izzy's head snapped towards Clary, but was just as quickly jerked back, because Simon's hand was still buried in her hair.

"Ow Simon, let go," said Izzy. But Simon, who either hadn't noticed Clary or didn't care that she was there, continued kissing Izzy's neck.

"Simon, just let me wash my hands. I don't care what you do after," Clary said.

Finally, Simon broke apart. He seemed to have realised what was happening and a blush was creeping over his face. Clary couldn't help but grin at that.

"Well, um, I need to be home early so bye." Izzy strode to the door, smirking at Clary. So Clary wasn't the only one that knew just how embarrassed Simon was. She was going to have a lot of fun with this.

Turning the tap on, Clary slowly started to wash her hands. "Soooo..." began Clary, "Every time you two went missing you were actually doing that." She gestured with her hands to the spot where Izzy and Simon had been firmly attached at the mouth, a few moments ago.

Simon just blushed even harder. Clary took that as her answer. "How long have you been dating?"

"We're not really... dating."

Clary snorted. "It certainly looked like you were. I mean that's not really what normal friends do. Anyway, why didn't you tell me?"

"Well I - we... I don't know. What was I supposed to say, 'Hey Clary, me and Izzy have been making out for the past couple of months but we're not dating. Of course not. That's just ridiculous.'"

Clary didn't know what to say. She'd never had much experience with dating and didn't find many of the guys at her school appealing. So instead, she wiped her hands on the towel.

Once she had, she turned back to Simon. He wasn't blushing anymore, but he had lipstick smudges around his mouth. She tried to stifle her laughter.

"What?" Simon asked, having noticed her.

"It just that you've got lipstick, like, all around your mouth," Clary said, now openly laughing.

Mortified, Simon turned towards the mirror and began scrubbing at his face. "And you should have seen the look on your face when you _finally_ stopped kissing Izzy," chuckled Clary.

Simon, who had now turned red, yet again, groaned, "Can you not tell anyone else?"

"Tell anyone else what?" Clary asked, innocently.

"You know what."

"Fine," Clary said, laughing. With difficulty from the height difference, she slung her arm around Simon's shoulders, leading him out of the bathroom.

X_X_X_X_X_X_X_X_X_X_X_X_X_X_X_X_X

"You really weren't kidding when you said that you were bad at French."

Clary and Jace were sitting in the middle of Clary's room, papers and books strewn across the floor around them. The curtains were drawn on a black sky and the light bulb above them threw light around the room.

Fustrated, Clary threw the notebook away from herself. "No offence Jace, but French is the worst language in the world. Ever."

She fell back on the floor and rubbed her eyes. What she really wanted was to fall asleep. From beside her, she could hear the shuffling of paper. Over the past hour she and Jace had sat on her floor and he had begun to teach her how to form the perfect tense. To say it had been hard was an understatement.

There had been different patterns and irregular verbs that needed to be learnt. Clary's brain felt as if it had been cut up and then stitched together again.

"Clary, what the hell have you done here. This is definitely not the perfect tense." Jace's head appeared at the edge of her vision.

"I don't know what I did. I told you I don't get French."

"But I've literally told you how to form it 20 times. The correct form of avoir, with the past participle of the verb and an accented 'e' on the end. So it would be 'J'ai mangé' not 'Je vais mange'."

"Jace you're saying all these words but I literally have no clue what your going on about," replied Clary, closing her eyes.

"I thought you wanted me to help you," said Jace, exasperated.

"Yeah, but I only now realised just how bad my French is."

"It's not _that _bad it's just..."

"Don't lie Jace. It's really bad."

"Fine it is really bad but a week with me and you'll be fluent - or at least you'll pass your next test."

"Yeah, right. Well I'm gonna go to bed so..." Clary looked pointedly at the door.

"'Night then," Jace said, as he left the room, easing the door shut behind him.

A few minutes later Clary was curled up in bed, fast asleep, not even in her pajamas.

X_X_X_X_X_X_X_X_X_X_X_X_X_X_X_X_X

When Clary awoke, her mouth was dry. Very dry. A soft groan came from her throat as she longed for water but didn't want to leave the comfort of her bed. After a few minutes of internal debating, Clary decided to get up.

Beneath her hand the door creaked slightly as she pushed it open. Beneath her toes, the floor was cold. With her eyes closed, she dragged her feet across the hallway and into the dark kitchen. Clary fumbled around, for the next few minutes, as she tried to find a glass and fill it up.

Once she had successfully filled up a glass of water, she was quiet as she tried to get her mouth to feel normal again. She _hated _the feeling of a dry mouth. As she was putting away the glass, she heard something. It was the soft mutter of a swear word. Clary froze. The sound seemed to have come from towards the front entrance.

Quietly, she headed towards the kitchen's door and peeked around the edge. A shadowed figure crouched by the front door. They had a hood pulled over their head so Clary didn't know whether it was Jocelyn or Jace.

Suddenly, they straightened up and opened the door, carefully closing it behind them. Clary had about five seconds to decide whether she should or should not follow them. She went for the former.

Grabbing a hoodie, and pulling it over her wrinkled t-shirt and jeans, she quickly left the house and descended the apartment building. Surprisingly, it was cool outside. A few metres away, the hooded person was walking down the street.

The street lights threw their body into relief for a few moments, but that was all it took for Clary to realise who it was. Jocelyn wasn't that tall and she was built more like Clary: small, with a petite frame. This person was definitely Jace.

X_X_X_X_X_X_X_X_X_X_X_X_X_X_X_X_X

**_Okay, so I want to ask some questions about what you'd like in future chapters, would you want a mean kinda girl like Kaelie because I think it's kinda overused. Also, I think it'd be interesting to hear your theories on what's gonna happen next. So, if you want, you can leave it in a review below. Thank you for reading!!! _**


	6. Day 4

Clary didn't know what to do when the thought struck her. So many questions clogged up her mind that she didn't know what to do. The most prominent question in her mind was _what the hell was Jace doing? _

She decided to simply follow him and see where he went. For the first few minutes, the streets that he took were empty, meaning that it was easy to follow him. But as they travelled further, the more busy the streets became. For one terrifying moment, she had lost him in the sea of people but soon after she had caught sight of his hooded head.

He weaved in and out of all of the crowds, dodging passing pedestrians with ease. Clary wasn't so fortunate. Twice she had nearly ran into someone, both times she had apologised profusely but hurriedly.

Suddenly, he veered off the street and into an alleyway, but Clary was hesitant to follow him. The alleyway was empty and all Jace would have to do was turn around and she'd get caught. She decided that it didn't really matter if she was so she crept into the alleyway.

On the left hand side, there was a large dumpster and Clary quickly darted behind it. She waited a few seconds before she then peeked out from behind it. Jace was near the end of the alley. Only five more steps and he would be out of her sight. Four... Three... Two...

She jumped up and ran fast, hoping that she wouldn't trip into anything. Luckily, she didn't and when she reached the mouth of the alley there was another crowd that she could easily blend in with. A few metres in front of her, Jace was walking, hands in his pockets. Again, he took a sharp right which caused Clary to have to swerve an angry looking man.

The next road that he turned into was noticeably less busier than the previous one. Clary kept her head down and pulled her hood up. She knew her red hair was practically a sign saying _OVER HERE! _ When she next looked up, Jace had gone under a metal arch that led to a park. Why was he going to a park? Clary just followed him and didn't think about any of the questions in her mind.

The park was a place where shadows thrived. Many of the lamps that were supposed to light it needed new bulbs or had sputtering yellow ones. Beneath the swaying trees, the benches were home to cobwebs and splinters. Ahead of her, Jace stopped suddenly and sat down on a bench.

He closed his eyes. "Clary, you're really bad at following someone."

She was silent. He turned his head towards her and gave her a tired grin. "I've known you were following me since you stepped out of the house."

Clary sat down beside him, heavily. "How'd you realise?"

"You weren't wearing your hood then. You're hair's like some bright red sign."

"Oh," she said, then, "Where were you going to go anyway?"

"How do you know I didn't just want to go to the park," he said, linking his hands behind his head.

"It's the middle of the night Jace. You're wearing _all black _with your hood up."

"So what, Clary. Don't assume things."

She rolled her eyes. "So you're saying that if a guest steals your house keys in the middle of the night - don't deny it saw you take them!"

"I was gonna give them back," interrupted Jace.

"You don't suspect anything suspicious," Clary continued, as if Jace hadn't spoke. "So what are you doing, huh?"

For a few moments, Jace stared at her, his lips pressed together. "I was gonna go sightseeing."

He continued on when he saw the look of disbelief painted on her face. "No really, look."

He pulled out his phone and started scrolling through it. "Here," he said shoving it beneath her face.

It was his search history from about an hour ago. "Why are you showing me your search history?"

"Look." He pointed at something. "I was searching up places in New York."

Sure enough, an old office building was listed there.

"Okay, but why visit an office building. Why don't you go somewhere more normal like the Empire State Building."

"Because that's so cliché."

"Okay," Clary said, as her mind tried to separate the lies from the truth, "I won't say anything about you stealing the keys to our house if you let me come with you."

He stared at her for a few moments, his eyes searching her face for something before he said, "Deal."

Even though Clary found it difficult to believe in what Jace had said, she couldn't see any alternatives. Maybe he _was_ just sightseeing.

Clary had never been so wrong.

X_X_X_X_X_X_X_X_X_X_X_X_X_X_X_X_X

The wind was rustling the leaves above Clary's head, so that for a few moments the sun peeked from between the gaps. Floating on the wind, the scents of freshly cut grass filled the air around them. That scent always reminded her of summer, of days spent at Luke's farm when she was much younger. Most of her memories were of her the swing as it swayed in the breeze.

She itched to draw that swing. With it's rough ropes and -

"Clary, you're not listening _again_!"

"Wha - oh, " she said, sitting up again.

"You have the attention span of a gold fish," said Jace, exasperated.

"Memory," Clary said.

"What?" Jace asked, his nose screwed up in such a way that Clary had the urge to capture it on paper.

"The saying's 'the memory of a gold fish' not the attention span."

"How come you remember that and not French, huh tell me that?"

She picked up a strand of grass and rolled it beneath her fingers. "That's because French is boooriiing."

"I'm serious Clary. I don't wanna waste my time if you're not gonna pay attention."

"Okay, okay I'll listen. And you were talking about the past tense, so I _was_ listening."

"I'm always talking about the past tense _because you never remember it! _"

"You've got a point," Clary said, getting distracted by the way the light hit Jace's hair.

"You know what, I think I'm done with French today," Jace said, throwing himself down on the grass beside her.

"I see you've come round to my way of thought," Clary said, lying down beside him. Jace shifted his head from where they had been buried in his arms. There were slight shadows beneath his eyes indicating their late night yesterday.

After agreeing to her deal in the park, they had talked for around a half hour or so before they went home. Just as they were turning onto her street Jace had asked whether she wanted to go with him on his next trip the next evening. Naturally, she had agreed and Clary couldn't wait.

"Do you wanna go get some lunch," Clary asked, wondering if he was hungry.

"You've literally drained all of my energy Clary. I'm not getting up from this spot."

"That's fine with me," said Clary, while she pulled out her sketchbook. For a while, she looked around the school's field for inspiration. In clumps, people were spread across the grass meanwhile others played sports in the far corner. Nothing seemed to jump out at her. There didn't seem to be anything interesting to sketch.

With a sigh, she flung her sketchbook onto a patch of grass beside her. "What's wrong?" asked Jace.

"There's nothing to draw," said Clary, clearly frustrated.

"Draw me."

She turned her head to the side to see if Jace was being serious. He was.

So, with her sketchbook balanced against her knees, she began to sketch. She decided to draw him with half of his face hidden amongst the grass.

"Okay, wait a sec..." Clary said, quickly pulling out her phone and snapping a picture of him.

"It's so I can finish it later," she said, in answer to his questioning look.

It was then that she began to sketch. In a few minutes, she had captured the rough outline of his face but, by that time, Jace had begun fidgeting.

"Can't you stay still for a bit?" Clary asked, squinting at the shape of his eyes. They had a nice shape, she thought distractedly.

"I wouldn't have agreed to this if I'd known I had to go through this," groaned Jace.

"My friend's eight year old brother can sit longer than you can. Stop being such a little kid," Clary said, while rubbing out a patch of his eye.

"Clary."

"If you say another word I'm gonna slap you with my sketchbook," muttered Clary, as she started to draw his the outline of his irises.

"I'm pretty sure that's illegal, Clary. Your not allowed to harm exchange students."

Clary only replied with a roll of her eyes. She had just got the shape of the iris and started to shade it in. It was starting to get difficult. There were so many shades of gold and yellow.

"Why's your face all scrunched up like that?"

Clary hadn't even noticed that she was squinting with her mouth pursed.

"You're eyes are just so weird," murmured Clary.

"You know, people don't often say that. I get a lot of 'beautiful's and 'they're gorgeous's but no one's ever called them wierd before."

"I didn't mean it like that. I meant that they're unusual."

"But beautiful," added Jace.

"Keep telling yourself that," Clary said, grinning from over her sketchbook. Having decided to draw his irises last, she began sketching his eyelashes.

They were the sort of eyelashes that girl's in her school would give an arm or leg for. They were long and when his eyes were open they brushed the top of his eyelids.

Just as she had begun to sketch the first eyelash, the bell rang. "Dammit." The bell had made her jump and there was now a streak of pencil marring the sketch. She groaned, and dumped the book into her bag.

X_X_X_X_X_X_X_X_X_X_X_X_X_X_X_X_X

Max Lightwood was on a mission. Finally, he'd be able to be act like one of the heroes from his comics. Already, his adventure was going great. He had successfully distracted Maryse so that she wouldn't note his absence _and _he'd crossed the main road by himself. Max was feeling pretty proud of himself. The only step left was to purchase the comic book from the store and then return home before his mum noticed. There was only a very crowded street to bypass and then he'd be able to buy all the comics that he'd like to.

Around him, people, some of which were double his height, pushed him. He jostled from side to side, and at one point he narrowly avoided a large briefcase belonging to an equally large man. Upon his face, there was a mustache that had started to cover his mouth as well. Max tried to smother a few laughs, which he couldn't help. The man was just so strange looking!

Once he had made it to the other side of the large man, Max saw the shop, at last. In a few moments he was directly outside of it. He stood there for a few moments on the pavement, admiring the book displays in the window. But he couldn't do that for long because a large lady shoved him to the side so that he stumbled and fell to the concrete. Looking down, he saw that his knee was skinned and blood filled the gaps between the ripped skin. He would _not_ cry. Superheroes _never_ cried.

But even as he was saying this, a few unwanted tears dripped onto the pavement next to him. Rubbing furiously at his eyes, he got up and ran into _another_ person. This time, however, they actually paid attention to him.

"Oh I'm so sorry, are you okay?"

Looking up, he met a pair of oddly coloured eyes. He nodded in response to the man's question even though it wasn't true. Apparently, the man knew he was lying because he then said, "You sound like a brave kid. I knew if I'd fallen I'd be bawling like a baby. I can get you a plaster if you want."

Max just nodded again. He had been told time and time again not to talk to strangers but there was something about this man that made Max trust him. It could have been his smile or more realistically, it could've been the fact that when the wind blew glitter fell off the strange man. After all, no villain would wear that much glitter.

So he followed the man into the comic store where they then went into the back room. It was small but filled with boxes overflowing with new glossy comics. Max's fingers itched to look through all of them, but he resisted and instead sat on a small stool, while the glittery man went on about his cat, and talked to Max as if he'd known him for years. "So I was just going through the front door of my house when he jumped at me!" he laughed, shaking his head fondly. "Anyways, The Great Catsby, that's my cat y'know named after the book, but you're probably a bit too young to read it," He paused in his rambling, looking Max up and down, "well he'd smashed a bottle of milk and spilt an entire jar of glitter all over my apartment. Such a naughty cat he is, but he's still my favourite. Well, here's your plaster."

He handed Max a plaster with cats printed on it. Carefully, once he had peeled the back off, he placed it upon his cut.

"Is it all better now..." the man trailed off unsure what to call the little boy.

"Max. My name's Max. What about your name?"

"Oh, I'm terribly sorry I didn't introduce myself. Probably forgot in all the excitement of making a new friend," he smiled at Max again. Max smiled back. This man, albeit a little strange, actually paid attention to him unlike his siblings.

"I'm Magnus Bane," he said with an exaggerated bow and the mime of taking off a top hat. A small giggle escaped from Max's lips, but was cut short when he saw the time. His mum had probably noticed that Max had disappeared.

"It was nice meeting you Mr Magnus but my mummy's going to get worried if I don't leave now," Max said, gingerly testing his leg again.

"Hmm that's probably a good idea. You don't wanna make your mum angry. But maybe you can visit tomorrow. I'll bring my cat next time," Magnus said, face lit up.

"Okay maybe," Max said, waving goodbye at Magnus. As he left the room, Max thought that maybe he wanted to go on other adventures again.

X_X_X_X_X_X_X_X_X_X_X_X_X_X_X_X_X_

"Jace, isn't this illegal?" Clary asked as they crouched in the entrance of an alleyway. The sound of cars reverberated in the narrow alley. Above them, dark buildings stretched, watching down on them.

"Don't be stupid, of course it's not," Jace said, looking back at her. He had a wide grin upon his face, a grin that was full of energy. He looked _alive_.

"But isn't this breaking and entering? That's illegal."

Jace laughed. "Umm, no it's not. We're not breaking anything."

"But we're entering."

"I'd call it. . .going on a tour of a building without anyone noticing."

"That's still illegal," muttered Clary.

Rolling his eyes, Jace replied with, "Just take a few risks in life. You'll enjoy it better."

"I won't enjoy it if my mum ends up murdering me when she finds out what we'req. Don't tell me your mum wouldn't do that."

Immediately, Jace froze, the features on his face hardening as if he were wearing a plastic mask. "No, she wouldn't do that," he said, in a flat voice that had no emotion.

She decided to drop the conversation when Jace turned his back firmly on her. He had one arm on the wall beside them, while his head poked out from beside the bin.

"Okay," he whispered, "we're gonna go in three... Two... One." On 'one' he grabbed her hand so that they were sprinting across the street, avoiding certain places that had cameras trained on them. Her heart was beating so fast that she could feel the inside of her body vibrating.

When they got to the other side, another alley reaching around the building, Clary bent over, hands on her knees. She was laughing. All the nerves that she'd had, had dissipated. Instead, there was a weightless feeling inside her as well as the thrill of the beginning of an adventure.

"See that wasn't so bad was it?" Jace said, grinning so wide that she noticed for the first time that he had a chip in his top incisor.

"Okay, fine, but what are we going to do next?"

"So you see that door over there," said Jace, pointing to a metal door with large metal bolts on the edges. "We'll go through that and then we'll get to the top."

He straightened up and then strode towards the door, twisting the handle. It opened without any resistance.

"How did you..." Clary trailed off unsure of what to say.

"It's never locked, now c'mon let's go," Jace said, disappearing into the darkness that the door uncovered. Once they were inside, Clary noticed how _empty_ the building was. Not only were there no people but there didn't appear to be any furniture inside. Or at least there wasn't any in the hallway that they were in. Once the had reached the end, they arrived at two double doors and an elevator.

Jace pushed through the doors which revealed a flight of stairs.

"Please don't tell me that we're gonna go up 15 flights of stairs," groaned Clary.

"Actually it's 16," Jace replied as he began to jog up the steps. The sound of his shoes hitting the floor echoed in the stairwell.

"Why can't we just take the elevator?"

"Because," Jace said, as leaned over the banister, already a flight of stairs up, "elevators have cameras."

With another groan, Clary began the long ascent up. The first three flights of stairs weren't so bad, but once she was past that her body began to ache. It was only once she had reached the top of the sixth flight that she told Jace to stop.

"Jace, my legs feel as if they're about to fall off," Clary said, sliding down the wall she had been leanig against, so that she was now sitting on the floor. A few paces in front of her, Jace looked as if the stairs hadn't made any impact on him.

"We don't have time to take a break, Clary," said Jace checking the time on his phone. Clary didn't say anything, she just tried to relax her sore legs.

"Look come on," Jace said, when she didn't get up. He caught her arm and dragged her toward the beginning of the seventh flight. For the next few minutes, they walked at a snail's pace, with Jace dragging Clary behind him. That was until Jace had become frustrated at their speed and said, "Let me just give you a piggyback to the top since you've basically just given up." He looked at her stooped form pointedly.

Even though the offer sounded tempting, she shook her head. Jace groaned. "If you're not gonna let me carry you then you're either staying down here until I come back, or you're gonna climb the rest of the stairs and act like you're not dying."

The former offer seemed the least appealing to Clary, but she didn't think she was going to manage the rest of the six flights.

"Okay fine, I'll let you carry me," she muttered, annoyed.

Jace grinned. "Finally. Now we can actually get somewhere."

He crouched down in front of her and, gingerly, she climbed onto his back, wrapping her arms around his neck. As Jace got up, he tightened his hold on her knees. Even with her added weight, they moved _a lot_ faster than they had been a few minutes ago. And Jace still didn't appear to have been affected by the walk to the top of the building.

Minutes later, they had, finally, climbed the last step. As they stood in front of the door, Clary slid off of Jace's back, feeling the absence of his body pressed against hers. He strode towards the door and pulled back the heavy metal bolt that was locking the door. How he had so much energy at the end of their tiring climb was a mystery to Clary.

"Are you just gonna stand there all night?"

Jolting out of her thoughts, Clary realised that Jace was holding open the door for her. Once she had walked through it, Jace wedged a brick between the door and the frame so that they would be able to leave the roof again.

Beyond the door was a sight that was breathtaking. It was so high up that the wind was cold enough that she had to zip up her jacket. Beyond the flat roof, the city sprawled in every direction. The streetlights were like Chinese lanterns floating on a dark sky, while the streets themselves slashed paths through the darkness that would otherwise have cloaked the city. Straight ahead and above, skyscrapers clawed their way up through the jumble of buildings below.

"Yeah I know, it does look good," Jace said appearing beside her.

"I can kinda understand why you chose this over any old museum. Speaking of museums, was it good?" Clary asked, recalling the conversation they had had two days ago.

"Is that really a question? Of course it wasn't good," Jace said, his hands deep in the pockets of his jacket.

"Which one did you go to?"

"I don't know. I can't remember. Like I said, it wasn't good. The entire trip was literally just a blur of boringness."

"Well, does this make up for your terrible experiences in New York?" asked Clary, a small smile on her face.

For a long moment, Jace was silent, for so long that Clary didn't think he'd heard her, but then he said, "Yeah it's starting to make up for it."

When she looked over at him, his eyes were wide, mouth puckered as if he was trying to swallow something. Clary averted her eyes. She felt as if she were intruding on his privacy, but she didn't know why.

Strangely, she then heard a jingling noise. She turned around, searching for the source and saw that it was Jace who was making the noise. He had a small plastic bag filled to the brim with coins.

"What are they for?" Clary asked confused as to why he possessed so many of those copper coins.

"Look," he said, selecting a single coin, "You just do this."

He was about to hurl the coin over the side of the roof when Clary grabbed his arm. "Stop!" she yells. "That could kill someone."

"That's a myth, Clary, as in _not true_. Besides there's a ledge below us that catches them all," he said, as she peered over the wall. There was, indeed, a ledge like he had said. She watched as Jace threw a coin over and it rolled in a circle on the concrete below. It joined a handful of other dirty and worn out coins, that looked as if they'd been there for a couple of decades.

"Aren't you supposed to throw coins from The Empire State Building?"

"I've already said, Clary," said Jace, feigning exasperation, "I didn't want to be cliché."

He handed her a few coins and then turned back to dropping more coins off from the edge of the building. Clary had no idea why he was doing what he was, and she didn't want to ask. There was something about the way that he was dropping them that felt to Clary as if it were something personal and important to him. But that was ridiculous, so Clary decided that she may as well join Jace.

Taking a single penny, she tossed it over the edge. She couldn't hear the sound it made because it was buried beneath the roar of cars and traffic. Slowly, she ridded her hands of the copper coins and then, together, they emptied the rest of the contents in the plastic bag. When she looked down, the patch of the roof, where the coins had landed, looked as if it were dragon scales, and not metal. It was a rather beautiful sight.

X_X_X_X_X_X_X_X_X_X_X_X_X_X_X_X_X_

**_I forgot to mention in previous chapters but both Jace and Clary aren't doing any end of year tests and stuff because in real life Jace would probably be in an exam right now and not on a roof with Clary. So in my world they're not going tk be here. Also I'm probably going to update a little slower now because I don't have any pre-written chapters (but reviews and stuff make me more motivated. Hint hint)_**

**_As always thanks for reading, reviewing or following!!! _**


	7. Day 5

"Helooo, Clary, pass me the ketchup," Simon said, effectively breaking her out of her thoughts - and also making her ruin the drawing that she was working on.

"Couldn't you have just got it yourself," grumbled Clary, slamming the bottle beside him.

"Woah, what's got you in such a bad mood, huh?" said Simon, putting his hands up.

Shoving her sketchbook beneath his face, she stabbed at the drawing with her finger. "This is why I'm in a bad mood. I'm gonna have to start this again for the sixth time."

Tearing out her page, she crumpled it up and threw it upon the table. For what felt like the hundredth time that day, Clary started again. She was slightly annoyed with Simon and she wished that she hadn't agreed to go to Taki's with him, Jace and Jordan because now she couldn't concentrate properly.

Over the past few days, Simon and Jordan had bonded over their love for video games and, when she had gone round to his house that morning, they had been playing on the sofa. This didn't annoy Clary however they annoyed her when they had been shouting about the video game throughout the entire journey to the restaurant.

Closing her sketchpad, Clary decided that it was not worth the effort to continue drawing when it would inevitably get ruined again. So instead she turned her attention to her milkshake and coconut pancakes.

"Where's Izzy?" Clary asked, taking a sip of her drink.

Having heard Isabelle's name, Simon immediately turned to Clary. "She's coming a bit late 'cause she has to bring Max," Simon replied.

As if they had heard Simon, Max and Isabelle walked through the doors to the restaurant.

"Hey Clary!" Max shouted, running towards them. "Look what I got!"

He was waving around a comic book. Carefully, Clary took it from his hands.

"Wow. What's this one about?"

Squeezing onto the seat beside her, Max launched into a very detailed description of the book and finished five minutes later. "So d'you wanna read it after?" Max asked, eyes wide and innocent.

Clary pretended to consider his offer but then said, "I think you should keep it. I've got to revise for a French test next week."

"Yeah and she's pretty bad at French."

Looking up, she saw that it was Jace who had said that. Max was looking at Jace, confused.

"Who are you?" he asked, having just noticed Jace.

"I'm staying with Clary for a few days," he said.

Max nodded, "Are your parents ill?"

Jace's mouth froze for a split second before he said, "No, they're okay. I'm just staying round Clary's on a school trip."

"You're lucky," Max said, "Clary's a really nice person." With that, he turned back to his comic book. Jace met Clary's eye and gave her an amused smile. Clary returned it.

"Clary, are you gonna eat those?" Simon said, pointing to her pancakes.

"Umm, yes get your own," Clary replied, cutting off a bit.

Izzy returned then, three paper bags in her hand, all of them containing French fries. "You better pay me back, Simon," Izzy said, handing him a bag and tossing one to Max.

"Of course, I will Iz," Simon said, opening the bag up.

"You're gonna get fat if you eat all of that, k

Mand it's not even lunch yet," Clary said, gesturing to his third bag of chips that day.

"I'll work out."

Clary laughed. "Yeah, you work out your mouth."

Simon just laughed, as he continued to shovel food into his mouth. Clary was surprised that he hadn't choked on one yet. Taking a sip of her milkshake, she then started to finish her pancakes. She had just caught sight of the time on the clock opposite her and realised that Jace had wanted to leave at 11:00. She now noticed that he was giving her glances every now and then, telling her to hurry up. So she did.

She ate only marginally slower than Simon - and that was only because she feared that she'd just choke and annoy Jace by slowing them down. Two minutes later, she was done. As she picked up her milkshake, Jace gave her a grateful look.

"Hey Max, can you move a bit," Clary asked.

"Are you going already?"

"Yeah, but maybe you can see me tomorrow."

He looked down for a moment before he slid out of the booth, allowing Clary to pass. Once she had straightened up, Max flung his arms around her, hugging her tight. "Bye," he said.

She waved at him as she left the restaurant, with Jace following. "What's so important that I had to leave Max?" Clary asked, once they were outside and were walking down the road.

"We're going to go sightseeing again," Jace said his strides so long that Clary had to jog to keep up with him.

"Where to now? Please tell me that we're not going to do something illegal again."

"For the last time, it wasn't illegal. And even if it was, which it wasn't, we didn't get caught. But to answer your question I'm not telling you where we're going."

Pestering Jace to find out where they were going would have been futile, so instead Clary looked st her surroundings. They were on a long road with shops and restaurants with lots of pedestrians walking by. It wasn't a place where Clary went often so she had no idea where they were going but apparently Jace did.

He was walking confidently, with his hands in his pockets, as if he walked around New York on a daily basis. For the rest of the journey, they continued in silence and a few roads later, Jace finally stopped.

They were at a bus stop.

"I was expecting something a bit more..." she gestured with her hands.

"Grand," filled in Jace. "Exciting. Extraordinary. Yeah well we need to get there somehow and since you can't drive yet, this'll be our way of getting anywhere."

"I'll be able to drive in August," muttered Clary.

"And I'm not gonna be here in August, so that's not helpful."

Clary was about to argue back, when a bus came and Jace dragged her on board. He asked for two return tickets to a place that Clary had never even heard of before. Taking her arm, he lead her down the aisle and to a seat at the back.

"So any idea as to where we're going yet?" Jace asked, when they were seated.

Clary looked out the window at the moving streets and buildings. "No. Care to enlighten me?"

"No - but it's not that far from here so you'll find out in about an hour maybe."

"Not that far, that's ages away!"

"Well you're stuck on this bus now," Jace said grinning. Clary turned away, and instead looked at the old ladies in front of her. She wished that she could get off the bus because, more than anything, she just wanted to draw. She was going through a rare period of time that made her feel inspired to actually sketch and she didn't want to waste a moment of it. So, even though the bus was more bumpy than a ride on a camel, Clary pulled out her sketchbook.

Flipping to the correct page, she began to finish off her sketch of a pond in Central Park. She hadn't finished that drawing and she hadn't had much will to continue with it until now. For the first thirty minutes or so, she was careful with it because of how much the bus jolted but soon she decided that she didn't care.

After another thirty minutes hunched over her sketchpad, she finally sat straight - and knocked her head into Jace's.

"Oww," he said, rubbing at his head.

"It was your fault, you shouldn't have been leanind over my shoulder."

"I was trying to see what you were drawing."

"Well you could have just asked, like a normal person," Clary said, passing him the sketchbook with the original photo clipped to the top of the page.

He looked at it for a moment, eyes wide. "What's this picture of?" he said, slowly.

"Some place in Central Park, why?" Clary asked.

"It just. . . looks really pretty."

"Okay," she said, giving him a strange look.

He was saved from answering because the bus arrived at its final stop.

It was in the middle of an empty road.

X_X_X_X_X_X_X_X_X_X_X_X_X_X_X_X_X

"So then I said, 'That's not a dog, it's a cat!" Magnus burst out laughing, oblivious to the fact that Max didn't understand what he was saying. What was so funny about that story? So instead of trying to make sense of the ridiculous tale he had just heard, he turned his attention to the cat that was nestled in his lap.

When he and Isabelle had left Taki's not too long ago, Max had been bored and lonely but then he remembered Magnus and how he'd said that he would have his cat with him the next time they'd met. So, Max had left the house successfully, without anyone noticing, and now he was sitting in the comic store on a beanbag with Magnus, who had spent the past ten minutes talking to Max about his cat.

Apparently, the cat lead an amazing action-packed life but Max couldn't imagine the fat, lazy animal in his lap capable of anything but sleeping. Still, it was a cute cat.

Just then, the door opened, the bell ringing throughout the shop. A few people strolled inside, heading over to the shelves.

"I'll be back in a moment," Magnus said, heading over to the till. Max thought that Magnus was a rather strange looking man. He wore glitter in his hair and had glitter on his clothes, not to mention his glittery nails. Not even Izzy dressed like him.

He continued watching Magnus as someone came up to him, bought a comic and then left the store. He watched this happen this happen three more times before Magnus came back and they were, once again, alone in the shop.

"You know what, I think he likes you," Magnus said, gesturing to The Great Catsby. "And he doesn't like many people. Only my boyfriend and me, come to think of it."

Suddenly, the cat stretched, stood up and then promptly sat back down again curling its tail around its fluffy body. In the half hour that Max had known this cat for, this was the most it had moved. Looking up, he could see Magnus smiling fondly at the cat.

"Don't you think that he is the most adorable thing ever?" he asked Max, still staring at the cat.

"Yeah he's quite cute," Max agreed, even though he thought it was lazy.

"Hey Max. D'you want to buy a comic?"

Unwillingly, Max said ,"I didn't bring any money."

"That's okay, you can have one for free," Magnus said. Max was unsure whether to take the offer or not.

"Mum says I shouldn't take money from strangers."

"Ah," said Magnus, "that only applies to people who don't own cats. Besides I'm not a stranger, you met me yesterday. But, if you really don't want to, then you don't have to."

"No, that's okay!" Max said quickly. Magnus was friendly and looked as if he could do as much harm as The Great Catsby (which wasn't very much).

"Follow me then," said Magnus, as he led Max between the bookshelves. In complete awe, Max looked around the shelves. He was allowed to have _any_ one of the comics around him. Usually when he came with Maryse, he could only buy ones of certain prices, but Magnus was allowing him to buy any.

As he followed him, Max's fingers trailed along the wooden shelves. There were just _so_ many to choose from.

"Oh, what about these ones? Apparently, my boyfriend's brother really likes these." Magnus was pointing to a comic that had a picture of one of Max's favourite heroes.

"Hey! That's my favourite too!" exclaimed Max, happy to know that somewhere someone liked the same things as he did.

"Well, we just got the latest copy," Magnus said, handing it to Max, "Do you want it?"

"Yes please," Max said, taking the comic.

X_X_X_X_X_X_X_X_X_X_X_X_X_X_X_X_X_

"How much further?" asked Clary, for the fifth time in ten minutes.

"Not too long..." Jace said, checking his phone.

Ever since they had got off of the bus, they had been walking along the side of the road, beside the trees and bushes. The sound of birdsong, something Clary rarely heard in the urban area that she lived in, drifted through the still air. Suddenly, they Jace the path and instead went into the trees, so that Clary was forced to follow him.

"Yesterday we were breaking into buildings, now we're playing in the woods," muttered Clary.

"And tomorrow we'll be doing stuff more like the former trip," Jace said, eyes still glued to his phone.

"So something illegal."

"Depends which way you look at it..."

Clary groaned. Another day to look forward to.

Too engrossed in her thoughts, she hadn't noticed Jace until she ran into him. "Oh - sorry," she mumbled, but he didn't appear to have heard her. His eyes were fixed on the tree in front of them. After a moment of stillness, he suddenly strode over to the tree and grabbed a low branch. Expertly, he hauled himself up so that he was straddling the thick branch.

"What are you doing? You're not some ten year old," Clary called.

"Come on. Follow me," he said, completely ignoring her question. For a moment, she froze, not wanting to follow him. Then she remembered what he had said yesterday when she had been hesitant to follow him into the building. He'd said to take more risks and even though this wasn't a particularly life-threatening task she decided to listen to his words.

She grabbed the first branch and hauled herself up so that she could sit on it. Carefully, she stood up holding the trunk for support as she looked around for ways to climb higher. Above her, she could see Jace sitting comfortably on a branch, oblivious to her below him.

She stepped into the gap where the trunk divided into large branches and climbed until she was only one branch away from Jace. Because of how short she was, she had difficulty with getting onto his branch. Her hands only just about fit around it and so she had trouble hauling herself up. Evidently, Jace had noticed because, without her consent, he picked her up beneath her arms and placed her beside him.

He looked away when he had done that, as if he didn't notice how shocked Clary was at how suddenly his hands were on her. Trying to ignore the unfamiliar feelings inside her, Clary looked around them trying to focus on her surroundings.

The tree that they were sitting on was taller and larger than the others around it so, even though they weren't at the top of the tree, they still had a view of the tree tops. All around, the leaves overlapped so that they looked as if they would hold her weight if she walked across them like a carpet. And the trees stretched on and on. Well until they stopped at the bank of a river, which Clary could not fully see. Only the shine of water from between gaps in the leaves indicated that water was indeed there.

This view wasn't as breathtaking as the one she saw last night, but it had that peace and calm around it that made it just as nice.

"So why are we suddenly climbing trees?" asked Clary, as she turned to him. "Was this some childhood bucket list thing that you never did?"

He didn't face her as he mumbled, "Something like that."

So Clary stayed silent and didn't push for an answer, because she didn't mind if she didn't get one.

For a while they continued sitting there while Jace absentmindedly tore up a leaf into tiny pieces, each small bit fluttering down as delicately as feathers.

Clary was about to pull out her phone to take a picture of the trees (so that she could draw it later) when Jace put his hand on her arm. "Let's go now," he said, sliding off the branch with a grace that Clary knew she'd never have.

At first Clary just sat there as she looked down at the branch below her. It was a long way down. Apparently, Jace had noticed because he paused and looked back up at her. "Oh I forgot. You're probably gonna need some help getting down seeing as you're kinda short."

She glared at him and he raised his hands in mock surrender. Inching towards the trunk of the tree, she gripped it and slowly tried to make her way down, using the bumps in the tree as footholds. Eventually, she made it down and she couldn't stop the triumphant smile she gave Jace.

"It's not that hard to down climb a tree," Jace replied, as he dropped off the next branch to emphasise his point.

"Show off," muttered Clary, as she began another painstakingly slow descent.

"I know," answered Jace simply.

When Clary finally stood on the ground, she saw Jace scrolling through his phone.

"Okay..." he said, biting his lip. "So one more place to go then we'll go home. And revise for French."

He said the last part with a glare, which implied that there was no missing the revision and she'd actually have to try. She hadn't even replied with a half-hearted 'okay' when Jace turned away and went back into the trees.

In complete silence, they walked under the leaves and over the fallen branches, until finally Clary caught sight of glimmers between the leaves. They were at the river.

As they stood at the bank, Clary watched the river, or more accurately a small stream, and the way that the shallow water parted around the rocks dumped at the bottom.

"So what are we doing now?"

Jace turned to her and looked her in the eyes, a small smile beginning to form on his face. "Bird-watching," he answered.

"How is it possible that you go from 7 year old kid to 70 year old grandad?" Clary said, not very excited about the idea of bird-watching.

"It's one of my _many_ talents," he answered.

_That and also being incredibly confusing, _thought Clary.

After a few minutes of surveying the sky above them, Clary asked, "Any bird in particular."

"Herons, but I don't know if you get them here."

"And what does a heron look like?"

Jace hesitated for a moment, his fingers playing with the hem of his shirt. "It's just a bird, slightly fancier than your average pigeon."

"Helpful," muttered Clary.

"I know I am. You don't need to clarify."

She didn't know how long had passed, but she knew it was long enough for her feet to begin aching which caused her to sit down. And she was hungry. So it was probably past lunch.

"Can I ask you _why _you're looking for a bird that probably doesn't even live here?" asked Clary, shielding her eyes against the sun as she tried to look at Jace.

"I never said that it doesn't live here," replied Jace, surveying the sky above them. "I said _I _didn't know if it lives here. But, anyway it probably doesn't so let's go."

Before she could even get up, he turned away and went back into the darkness beneath the trees. Clary gladly followed, happy to be out of the sun and the heat.

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**_I have some Malec and Sizzy scenes planned but I wanted to know if you'd want to read them. So review below if you do. Anyway, thank you so much for all the views and follows and reviews and stuff!!!_**


	8. Day 6

_ **So this kinda important. I basically forgot to mention in previous chapters that after Jace's 10 days in NY Clary's going to spend 10 days in England. Also if you've reviewed an idea I've read then and am trying to add the ideas. Thank you to everyone who has reviewed or followed!!!**_

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"Oh my God, I thought this day would never come."

"What? What did I get wrong now?" asked Clary, looking up from the textbook in her lap. She and Jace were once again sitting upon the floor of her bedroom, with masses of papers and French textbooks around them.

"Clary Fray," said Jace seriously, "you have finally learnt the past tense."

"I got all of the questions right?" she asked, gesturing to the mock test that Jace had set her.

"Yes, yes you have. Honestly, I thought you were a hopeless case," he said grinning. "Now onto the near future tense!"

She groaned in response.

"Can we take a break?" she pleaded. "My head feels like it's going to explode."

"Well you're lucky 'cause you only have an hour left of this -"

"_An hour!_" exclaimed Clary.

Jace continued on as if he hadn't heard her. "Because I've got a trip to some historical monument. Okay, so take out your book while I explain the near future tense to you."

Clary stopped listening then. Even though the small voice in her head was telling her that it was a bad idea to, she didn't listen. After all, she still had a few days to revise for her test. Instead, she focused her attention on the pile of sketches beside her, thinking of all the things she wanted to draw.

"So work on these questions -" he pointed to his phone, "while I go get a drink."

Handing her the phone, he left the room. Looking down at the first translation question, she instantly knew that she wouldn't be able to do it as it was on the tense that Jace had just taught her. The tense which hadn't learnt.

She decided that it would probably be a good idea to at least attempt to do them, otherwise Jace would get annoyed and, in the worst case scenario, not help her revise the following day.

Knowing that her grammar was completely wrong, she picked up her pen and began writing down the words that she knew. Having just written down the meaning of the third question - well what she _hoped_ was the meaning, she looked up at Jace's phone and saw a new message appear at the top of the screen.

Before she could stop herself, she read the short text which said, "Mum's fine don't worry", but she didn't see who had sent it because the message disappeared. Of course, she could have just swiped down from the top to check, though she didn't. The message had appeared personal and, despite being very curious, she didn't look. There was also the fact that Jace had entered the room and she now couldn't.

"You finished the questions?" he asked, crossing his legs beside her.

She nodded, all the while thinking about the text that she had just seen.

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"So when are you picking Jace and Jordan up?" Isabelle asked, tossing a handful of popcorn into her mouth.

"Why? You bored of us already?" Simon asked, elbowing Izzy.

"Yeah. Especially you," she said, nudging Simon back.

They (Isabelle, Simon, Clary and, much to Isabelle's annoyance, Max) were sitting in the Lightwood's living room. They were supposed to be watching the movie playing on screen, but they had forgotten about it and were instead talking about the exchange students, who were currently on another trip exploring New York.

"If you're so interested in them, then you should have done the exchange," said Clary, annoyed that she couldn't hear the movie anymore.

"Yeah but that's just _effort_. I mean you're gonna have to go to England, like, in five day's time and it's not even London. It's just some small little town," replied Izzy.

"City," corrected Clary, just as Simon snatched the bowl of popcorn from Isabelle's arms which caused her to glared at him.

"Anyway," Clary said, taking the popcorn so that they would listen to her, "I know this is kinda off topic, but why did you hang up on me the other night, you know on Monday."

For a moment Izzy's face was scrunched up in confusion as she tried to remember what Clary was talking about. "Oh _that_," she said, after a few seconds had passed. "Oh yeah, well basically, Alec was sneaking out somewhere and I went to follow him."

This caught Clary's attention. _Alec Lightwood?_ she wouldn't have been surprised if it were Izzy sneaking out of the house, but not Alec. Alec was the one who listened to Maryse and looked out for his other two siblings. So Clary decided to voice her concerns.

"Alec was going somewhere?"

"Yup. I didn't follow him 'cause I wasn't dressed or anything, but I've noticed that it's been happening for a couple nights now."

"Where d'you think he goes?"

Izzy laughed, "With his boyfriend of course."

"He has a boyfriend?" Clary said in disbelief. Sure, she knew Alec was gay but she never thought that he'd actually date anyone.

"I think so, I heard him on the phone the other night and you do _not_ speak to friends like that."

"He hasn't actually told anyone yet, has he?"

Izzy's face softened as she said, "No. And I know you'd never do this, but don't tell anyone. Let Alec tell them himself."

"Yeah, yeah," said Simon, reaching across Isabelle to take the popcorn from Clary. Which slipped from his grasp. And fell on the floor. All over the carpet.

"Oh, sh -" began Simon.

"There are little people here," hissed Isabelle, her hand covering Simon's mouth.

"Sugar," said Simon, pushing her hand away. "I was gonna say sugar."

Max looked up from his comic. "No you weren't you were about to say -"

"Max! Don't say that, that's a rude word!" Izzy said.

"Simon was gonna say it."

"And Simon's a rude boy."

"You say it all the time."

"That doesn't matter! Have you ever heard Alec say anything rude?" said Isabelle, giving Max a glare.

"No, but - " Max sighed. "Fine then." He left the room, avoiding Simon who was clearing up the large pile of popcorn on the floor.

"I seem to recall you swearing when you were Max's age," Clary said, slyly.

"That was one time," argued Izzy. "And I didn't know what it meant."

"Sure, sure," Clary said, sinking onto the floor beside them so that she could scoop the popcorn back into the bowl.

"Mum's gonna murder me, if she sees any of this," groaned Isabelle.

"Go get the vacuum then," replied Simon. Isabelle left the room and returned a few seconds later with one in her hands. After vacuuming rather aggressively, which caused Simon to yelp when she nearly caught his sock, Isabelle finally finished. Clary was almost as terrified of her vacuuming as she was of her in the kitchen. Almost. She could still taste the burnt pancakes she had been forced to eat a few hours ago.

"Wow, it took you so long to clean up the popcorn that the movie's finished," Simon said, pointing to the credits sliding down the screen.

"Shut up, Lewis. The film was almost finished."

"Hey Simon," Clary said, interrupting the start of another small argument between him and Izzy, "When are we supposed to pick up Jace and Jordan?"

He glanced at the clock before he said, with great emphasis on the last word, "Oh _sugar_ -"

"You know Max isn't here anymore. You can swear all you want," said Isabelle.

"Yeah but I'm a good child, unlike _some_ people." He looked pointedly at her. Izzy was about to retort again when Clary groaned. "Just tell me when we have to pick them up. I wanna go to bed."

"It's in, like, half an hour so we should probably leave now." He got up and slid on his jacket. Izzy followed and kissed his cheek which caused Clary to turn away. According to Simon they were still not dating, however they _looked _like a couple and _acted _like a couple. Clary was started to get slightly annoyed that they wouldn't get together.

"Come _on_," said Clary, tugging at Simon's sleeve slightly. "You two can do whatever you want when I'm not here."

Izzy and Simon broke away, looked at each other, before Simon let go of her hand and said, "Bye. I'll call you later."

"Okay," she replied as they both left the room. Once they were outside, Clary said, "Are you ever gonna get together?Because you'll probably regret it later."

She turned to see Simon who simply said, "Look, I don't wanna talk about this now, let's just go get Jordan and Jace."

The rest of their journey was in silence, Clary respecting his wishes.

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Clary had never been in a more dodgy place. The streetlights were dim and illuminated nothing. With every step she took, she kept thinking she saw moving shadows beside her. This street was the sort of place that her mother had warned her about every day of her childhood. Why did she agree to come here with Jace?

"I feel like I'm gonna be murdered here, don't you?" Clary asked, looking at the other side of the street.

"Umm, no. I think that's just you," replied Jace, pulling out his phone to check something. The light from his phone reflected in the window beside him so that Clary could see ghostly versions of the two of them. "How much further until we reach wherever you wanted to go, huh?"

Jace looked up from his phone and pointed towards the end of the street. "The last one. Right at the end." Squinting her eyes, Clary tried to see what the sign on the shop said but it was too dark to make out. That didn't matter though, it only took a few more seconds before they were in front of the building and Clary could finally see the words. Printed above the windows smeared with dirt, were the words 'Hunter's Moon'.

"What even is this?" Clary pointed to the front door.

"A bar," Jace said simply.

"You're underage. You're never gonna get alcohol from there."

"I beg to differ," he said, pushing open the door so that the dark interior was revealed. Clary wished that it wasn't revealed. She'd much rather stay in the dodgy area outside.

Inside, the smell of alcohol was strong along with the smell of cigarette smoke. Tables and chairs stood on top of the ground, which was as grey as the fur of a rat. Clary wouldn't have been surprised if she saw one slinking across the room. Jace took her arm and led her to the bar which was stained by liquids that Clary didn't want to think about.

She reluctantly sat down on a bar stool beside Jace and watched as he ordered a drink. The barman looked pointedly at her after he took Jace's order. "What d'you want?" he prompted.

"Nothing," Clary said firmly.

"Suit yourself. You ain't gonna get alcohol anywhere else."

Jace gave her a sideways look, as he received a glass with liquid the colour of his eyes. Out of the corner of her eyes she saw the barman disappear through a doorway. Clary was now alone with Jace.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" hissed Clary.

"I'm drinking," he said, taking a small sip. "Why? Does it look like I'm doing something else?"

"No what I mean is what are you doing _here? _If you wanted to get drunk then you could've done it back in England."

"Who said anything about getting drunk?" Clary raised her eyebrows. "Okay, okay fine. _You _don't have to drink anything. In fact I really don't want you to drink anything. If we're both drunk we're never gonna get home."

She was going to argue back but she knew it was hopeless. If he _really_ wanted to get drunk then Clary knew she wouldn't be able to stop him. Dozens of scenarios ran through her head, but each of them were flawed. She was physically smaller than him so she wouldn't be able to drag him home. There was also the fact that she didn't know _how_ to get home.

"Okay fine. I don't know why you want to do this so bad, but it's probably the same stupid reason every teenager who gets drunk has. But you owe me. Like big time."

"Yeah, yeah I know," he said, his eyes bright. She didn't know if it was because he was genuinely happy or because he was already intoxicated.

After draining the rest of the glass in on go, he placed it on the table. The barmen poked his head from out of the doorway, having heard the clink of glass and wood. "I'm assuming you want another," he said, pouring Jace a glass. Immediately, Jace took it and held it to his lips.

"You may wanna slow down -" Clary began, but Jace appeared to have not heard her because he began to pour the liquid into his mouth. "Or not that's fine too," muttered Clary, when the glass was once again put on the counter.

"Look give me the money and I'll let you keep the bottle, so that you can let me sleep a bit," the bartender said, sliding a glass bottle across the counter. Jace dug into the pockets of his jacket and dumped some money into the awaiting hand of the bartender.

"Drink how much you want. But you," he pointed to Clary, "make sure your little friend doesn't get into any trouble. You seem to have more sense than him. Now if you'll excuse me I'm going to bed." With that he left the room so that once again they were alone.

"Hey Jace, aren't you supposed to drink water and eat stuff so that you don't get a really bad hangover?"

"Huh? Oh yeah well that's too late," he mumbled, tipping another mouthful down his throat.

"Don't say I didn't warn you tomorrow morning when you're dying," Clary said.

"Okay. Okay Grandma," he laughed at the end as if he were listening to a comedian. Jace probably thought he was one.

"Oh my God. You're getting drunk now," groaned Clary.

"That's what happens when you drink too much!" Jace began laughing again. Seeing him like this made a small smile appear on Clary's face. It wasn't every day that you saw someone like Jace, someone who was smooth and composed all the time, tipsy and laughing at their own, rather bad, jokes. Deciding that it was going to be a long night, Clary pulled out her sketchbook and started adding more details to her sketch of Central Park.

"Hey Claaary," Jace said, tugging on her arm. "Can I've shome more?" he pointed to the bottle which was starting to become empty.

"Probably not, unless you want an angry bartender who you've just woken up."

"Aww. Sho this's all I've got." He was starting to slur his words and his movements were lacking his usual grace, yet he was still more graceful than Clary.

For a few minutes they were silent, Clary sketching and Jace . . . well he was _very _ silent. Turning to him, she saw him staring at her with his mouth open and eyes narrowed.

"What?" Clary asked.

"Your hair's very strange. It's kinda nice. Very different. Very red. Yeah, very red. Like... Like ketchup. Yeah, like ketchup." He was rambling and, most likely, wasn't aware of what he was saying, but it still caused her to grin.

"Clary, can I ask you a question?"

"What?" What sort of question was he going to ask in this state?

"Can we go there?" He pointed to her sketch of Central Park. That wasn't as bad as she was expecting.

"I suppose," Clary said slowly. "But not now. We'll go another day."

"I'm happyyy you knew where thish was. Now I can finish my lisht."

"That's nice," said Clary, distracted because she'd noticed that she'd messed up a branch in her tree.

Another five minutes passed in silence, as she tried to rectify her mistake. "Hey Jace, how did you know about this place and why is it so empty?"

"My dad wrote 'bout it." He shrugged and then continued trying to get the last few drops from the bottom of the bottle.

Clary didn't understand what he meant by 'wrote about it' but she suspected that the answer had been heavily influenced by the liquid he had just drunk.

Half an hour later, Clary decided that it would have been best to take Jace home. When she looked at him, he didn't _appear_ to be drunk; he wasn't stumbling around or slurring on his words too much, however the vacant look in his eyes told her that he was drunk and was probably in his own strange numbed world.

"C'mon, Jace. Let's go, unless you want to continue failing at getting that last drop of alcohol," she said, slinging her bag onto her shoulder. Putting the bottle down, he followed Clary out of the dark room and into the equally dark street.

"Right, which way do we go?" Clary looked at Jace expectantly. He shrugged. "I don't know where we are." He continued to look around the street with wonder as if there were something truly beautiful about it. Clary knew for a fact that there wasn't.

"Fine we'll get a taxi. We'll just need to find one now." The last sentence came out as a mutter. With great difficulty, Clary dragged Jace behind her as she tried to look for a main road with taxis on it. For a long time, she was unsuccessful but, after having trudged the length of a busy road, she _finally_ found one.

Opening the door, she was met with the driver's glare that he gave her upon seeing Jace. He was probably worried that Jace would throw up on his leather.

Once she had him in the back seat beside her, she told the driver her address and then they were off, driving through the streets of New York in an awkward silence.

When they arrived at Clary's house (much to her relief) Jace was barely awake (not so much to her relief). She quickly paid the driverand then hurried out of the car, practically carrying Jace. It was going fine until she reached the stairs leading up to the apartment. Jace was being uncooperative and it was basically just Clary (who was considerably smaller) holding him up. But at that point it was more dragging than anything.

Finally, they were inside the apartment and she was gently shoving Jace into his room. After stumbling around for a bit, he made it to his bed and groaned, "My head. The world's shpinning. Are we on a roller coaster?"

Luckily, Jocelyn wasn't there to hear his groans as she was yet again at Luke's house. Clary knew for a fact that if she was home, she would probably have murdered Clary for getting Jace drunk. "No you're on a bed Jace. I'll get you some water," said Clary, leaving the room.

After retrieving the water, she handed it to Jace, whose eyelids were drooping. He downed it in one long gulp and then fell backwards onto the bed, fully clothed. In moments he was asleep.

Clary left the room, suddenly feeling tired at seeing Jace asleep.

X_X_X_X_X_X_X_X_X_X_X_X_X_X_X_X_X__**Thanks for reading! Also, if you want anything added into the story, just review it below. **_


	9. Day 7

Even with her door closed, Clary could still hear Jace's groans. She was hoping to lie in for a few more minutes but, since Jace seemed to be dying in his room, she decided to get up and get him a glass of water.

She didn't know what to do with his hangover (because she'd never had one) but she decided that the glass of water would help. After all, everyone always said that their head hurt when they had a hangover, so it was probably like a headache.

As she went down the hallway, she was hoping that Jace would be slightly quieter, because if Jocelyn came home now - which was probably not likely, but still - it wouldn't be pretty. For Clary that was.

"Jace? I got you some water." Clary opened the door when he replied with another groan.

Upon opening the door, Clary was met with the sight of Jace pulling a shirt over his head. She caught sight of dark green lines on his back. They were soon covered by fabric. _Did he have a tattoo? _

She didn't ask for Jace suddenly turned around and snatched the glass out of her hands gulping it down as if he had been stuck in the Sahara desert for the last few hours. "Oh my god it feels so bad, Clary. Why didn't you stop me from drinking that much?"

"I did!" Clary said indignantly, "_And _I warned you about your hangover, so now you're just going to have to suck it up and deal with it."

"I don't remember that... But if I ever ignore you again please slap me. Actually don't do that right now, it'll just make this worse."

He flopped back onto the bed, screwing his face up. Glancing at the clock, Clary sighed. "Get up. We're going to be late. And no, you can't stay at home, my mum'll be here."

She left him on the bed rubbing his eyes.

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"Is your school always this loud?" Jace asked, head held by his hand.

"It's just like any other high school, Jace," said Clary patiently. They were at her locker and Clary was equally annoyed and amused. On one hand Jace wouldn't stop complaining about his hangover which, as Clary had pointed out multiple times, was entirely his fault. However, the facial expressions that he made were slightly funny, so Clary wasn't too angry at him.

"We've got English next, so it'll be quiet there," said Clary, as she closed her locker. They were watching a rather bad version of Macbeth during English. Most of the class spent the lesson doing anything but that, so long as it was quiet. The actual purpose of watching that movie was unknown, but Clary thought that it was because Mr Starkweather was running out of ideas as the year came to an end.

They were passing a group of girls when one of them came up to Jace. Leaning in close, she said something in his ear and then pressed a note into his hand, before he could say anything. When she arrived back at her group of friends, they yet again went back to giggling and giving Jace, among other boys, not very descreet looks.

"What was _that_ all about," Clary said once they had rounded a corner. She already knew but she still asked.

"I don't know the world was spinning then. So was that girl." They passed a bin and Jace tossed the scrap of paper into it.

"Sure it was. The world was definitely spinning," said Clary, sarcastically.

"Well when you get a hangover, you'll be able to go through this remarkable experience. But you'll probably never get drunk."

Clary didn't answer. After hearing Jace groan and moan all morning, she knew for a fact that she didn't ever want to get a hangover.

They went down another corridor and then finally arrived at Clary's English classroom. Ten minutes later, the most badly made film ever was being shown on the screen.

Around her, Clary could see students not paying the film any attention. Some of them were whispering quietly to each other. A few people were doing homework, probably due in for next period. Clary had been in that position more times than she could count, but not as many times as Simon. One or two people, were even on their phones, concealed under their desks.

Naturally, Clary wasn't going watch the movie and so she instead turned her attention to more pressing matters. Such as completing various drawings in her sketchbook. A few pages in, she saw her unfinished sketch of Jace, when he had been lying in the grass and, with him beside her now, she decided that the English lesson would be the most appropriate time to finish it.

As she sketched, she thought about how _easy _this particular drawing had been. Usually, to get the correct proportion was the hardest thing for her and Clary was surprised at how quickly she'd drawn his facial features. The only thing left was to shade in his face, which was the easiest part of the drawing.

She was so lost in her drawing that she jumped when she heard Lady Macbeth hissing at her husband rather loudly. She glanced up at the clock and sighed. There was only five minutes left of the lesson and she had been enjoying it.

Looking beside her, she saw that Jace was asleep. Fast asleep. His head rested on his bent arm that lay against the table. In his other hand, he clutched his half empty water bottle. His mouth was slightly parted, blond hair occasionally being shifted by his breaths.

For the second time that day, Clary jumped. The bell had just rang and around her, people were packing away their books. Jace was opening his eyes, blinking and looking confused. He pushed his hair back with his hand as he sat up.

"Come on, you just slept through the entire class. Let's go to art," said Clary, shoving her things into her bag.

"Art?" Jace was getting up slowly.

"Yes_, _art. And if we don't leave now we'll be late." Jace was still looking confused.

"Just come on."

He followed her out of the classroom and into the emptying hallway. It was easy to navigate now and it consequently only took two minutes to get to her next lesson.

The art classroom was her favourite of the all the rooms in the school. Not that that was hard. It was always different. There were new paintings on the easels at the back, or new sketches displayed on the walls. There was never nothing interesting to look at.

Clary led Jace to her seat towards the back of the classroom. "Oh please say I don't have to do anything," Jace said, dropping into the seat beside her.

"Why?" Clary asked.

"Look I don't deny that I'm great at many things." This earnt Jace an eye roll from Clary. "But art. . . Yeah I struggle to draw straight lines."

"That's what a ruler's for Jace," Clary said, waving one in front of his face. "It's used to draw straight lines."

"No I meant, even with the ruler it's hard."

Clary thought that Jace was joking, but she soon realised that he wasn't. The first half of the lesson was spent with him attempting to draw and then the other half, once he had given up, was spent staring at Clary's painting.

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Alec was feeling terrible. He had missed the funeral. Missed it. And why, because he was scared his mum would find out about what he had been doing for the past few weeks. Who he had been seeing.

It was such a stupid reason. He should have been at that funeral. He should have been there. So he was doing what he should've done hours ago. He was going to see him.

But it would be different now. Of course it would be different.

As fast as he could, he was running through the dark streets, the plastic bag he was holding banging against his leg.

He was nearly there. He was at the last street. He slowed down.

The streetlamps were too bright for his eyes, much brighter than the the moon. Alec avoided them when possible, he was paranoid that someone he knew would see him, even though he was on the other side of the city.

He walked over cracked pavement, the cracks permanent scars. Then he arrived where he had intended to. Three steps up and he arrived at the door. Another step and he was inside.

As usual, the entry hall was dark. Afterall, a lot of people were asleep now. Alec went up the stairs, his footsteps light on the metal. Once on the correct floor, he left the stairs and went down the hall. He stopped outside a dark door. No light could be seen from the crack underneath it. It wasn't usually like that.

He took out a key from his pocket, the key he had been given and opened the door. He hoped that he would be forgiven for missing the funeral.

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"_Another _bar?" exclaimed Clary, as they moved forward in the long line outside.

"Actually this one's a club," said Jace, examining his nails.

"But I thought you said that you were done getting drunk," said Clary, looking at his casual form. He was leaning against a wall outside Pandemonium, a place where she had been with Simon and Isabelle many times. It was an all ages club so most of the line consisted of people around her age.

"And I am," Jace said, "but that doesn't mean I still can't come here."

He had a point. She didn't argue more because she actually enjoyed Pandemonium. Jace pulled out his phone and started tapping at the screen with his thumbs.

Ever since she had accidentally saw that text, Clary started to notice how often Jace was on his phone, most of the time texting. He took out his phone in between classes, every couple of minutes when they were revising for her French test, discreetly at the dinner table, on the way home from school. He was on his phone more than Izzy, and that was saying something.

She had no clue _who_ he was talking to, she didn't feel right prying, but didn't stop her mid from thinking about it. The phone call that she had overheard on his first morning, made her think that maybe he was talking to a girlfriend. That thought was one that she quickly dismissed. For some reason she didn't enjoy believing it and also the text she saw yesterday had said 'mum'. So it was probably a sibling. Yes, that thought was much more pleasant.

Suddenly, Jace's hand was on her back. She looked back at him and saw that he was moving her forward. They were past the doorway and then they were inside.

The lights were revolving and the crowd that they were in was moving too. Clary wondered if the world had looked like this when Jace had been drunk.

"So what are we going to do first?" Clary asked, as Jace pulled her through a knot of dancing people. He stopped to answer her question. So that she could hear him, he leaned closer. "Get to someplace more quiet. I'm getting a headache from all of this."

"Says the one who drank about fifteen litres of water today," Clary said, following him as he moved through a small group of people in a cloud of fog. Their moving limbs came out suddenly, but the rest of their bodies were hazy.

They continued weaving through the crowd while Clary wondered how much longer it was until they found a quiet place. _Well one that Jace deems truly silent, _thought Clary. Finally, they arrived at a wall. They were at the edge of the room. Changing directions, they instead followed the wall and yet again they stopped.

Sidestepping Jace, Clary looked around his shoulder. She was confused because this spot in the room wasn't any quieter, in fact it was louder. Then she saw why.

They had stopped in front of a door.

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"Magnus?" Alec's voice was suddenly very loud in the dark room. The door swung shut behind him and he jumped. Now the room was pitch black.

"Magnus?" Alec's hand hurriedly ran over the wall, trying to find the light switch. "I'm sorry."

"Sorry's not enough. You missed his funeral." Magnus' voice was slightly hoarse and it broke at the end of the sentance. How many hours had Magnus spent crying?

He heard another stifled sob, and Alec gave up on trying to find the light switch. Instead, he attempted to make his way to Magnus, following the sound of his broken breathing. Something hit his foot, something light and plastic. A bowl. Alec hoped that Magnus hadn't heard, he knew it would just make him cry.

But Magnus _had_ heard and was now openly crying. Quickly, Alec rushed through the room, bumping into about five more things. His stomach was throbbing from where it got rammed into the edge of a table.

Eventually, he found the sofa that Magnus was sitting on and he lowered himself onto the velvet beside Magnus. Carefully, he put his arms around him and rested his head upon his chest. He didn't know what to say.

"Magnus how long have you been here for?" asked Alec, tentatively.

"Since his funeral," chocked out Magnus. The funeral had been before lunch. Magnus had been here for over ten hours.

"Magnus, you need to eat something, you didn't have breakfast, did you?"

"Of course I didn't! My cat just died!" Magnus erupted into fresh tears. Alec could feel them drip onto his hand. He was restraining himself from sighing. The Great Catsby hadn't been his most favourite cat. In fact, Alec thought that it was evil.

The first time he had met him, it'd just been sleeping, looking quite peaceful. With Magnus' encouragement, Alec had gone up to stroke the cat. It had purred. Alec assumed that it liked him. He had never been so wrong.

The moment Magnus had left the room, the cat pounced. He had never been more terrified. The Great Catsby suddenly transformed from a tame house cat to something similar to it's bigger cousins, but Alec doubted that any lion could have the same murderous look in its eyes as Magnus' cat had.

From that point onwards, he steered clear of it.

"Magnus, come on I'll make you some food, actually I bought you some ice-cream," Alec said, suddenly remembering the plastic bag he had brought with him.

Pulling out the tub and the two plastic spoons he had brought, Alec handed the ice-cream to Magnus, who slowly lifted his head from the armrest on the sofa.

"Vanilla?" he asked, a small smile on his face.

"Yeah, it was the first one I saw," Alec replied.

"And no sprinkles?" Magnus was sitting up now, but Alec couldn't see his face properly in the dim lighting.

"I forgot to bring the rainbow sprinkles."

Magnus put his arm around Alec. "I forgive you." Alec knew that Magnus wasn't talking about the ice-cream.

After taking off the lid, Magnus sunk his spoon into the tub, bringing out a large chunk of ice-cream with it. Alec did the same.

They didn't say anything as they ate the ice-cream. Magnus appeared to not be crying anymore, but a Alec thought that a few droplets of water appeared on the ice-cream a couple of times.

Eventually, it was gone, but apparently the same could not be said ford Magnus' hunger. Alec could hear his stomach growling.

"Come on, I'll make you something," said Alec, taking Magnus' hand. He led him into his kitchen and switched on the lights. For a few moments, it was blinding, probably because he had spent the past forty-five minutes in the dark.

"Right, so..." Alec trailed off. He had never made anything before, his mother had always made food and consequently Alec knew nothing about cooking. It also didn't help that he was put off by making food every time he saw Izzy in the kitchen. After all, if you could mess up cake _that_ many times, it probably wasn't easy.

"You put the toast in the toaster, I'll fry the eggs," Alec said. He'd seen Maryse fry eggs multiple times, and she made it look easy - though there was that part in his brain that thought about when Izzy had fried eggs. At least he thought it had been an egg. That's what Isabelle had said. He'd had his doubts when a brown sludge had appeared on his plate.

Alec decided to get rid of any thoughts of Izzy. Cooking was easy. Especially frying an egg.

With that encouragement in mind, he pulled out a frying pan and some oil. Carefully, he poured some into it. He wasn't sure how much, so he added enough that it covered the entire base of the pan in a thin glossy layer.

Bending down, he looked at the dials for the correct hob and then twisted the right one. He turned it halfway because, yet again, he wasn't sure what temperature to have it on.

Then he took an egg out. Cracked it. Dropped it into the pan.

It immediately started to sizzle and this alarmed Alec. What if it was burning? He dismissed that thought when he realised that the top was still a transparent white.

For a little while he watched the egg, then decided to add the other one as well. It was taking longer than he expected.

"Alec, what should I do with the toast?" He could see Magnus from the corner of his eye, but he didn't dare to look away from the pan. What if the eggs burnt?

"Just put them on the side." The whites of the eggs were starting to look cooked, but the yolks didn't. So Alec tilted the pan and, with a spoon, put the hot oil onto the yolks. It worked because two minutes later the eggs were done and were starting to get crispy around the edges.

With a spatula, he deposited the eggs onto different plates, beside the toasts that Magnus had made. Grinning, he turned around to look at him. His smile froze.

He had only just taken a proper look at Magnus. His eyes were red, swollen and held slight tears at the bottom. There was no makeup on his face or glitter on his clothes. There was no colour.

He seemed to be wearing one of Alec's sweaters, the one he had left behind yesterday. Giving him a soft smile, Alec stepped forward and put his arms around him, burying his head in his sweater. Magnus did the same, his head resting on Alec's shoulder.

For a while they stood like that, neither wanting to move, the food forgotten. "Let's have your food, Alec. Wouldn't want to waste all your effort."

He looked up to see Magnus smiling, the first proper smile he had seen that day.

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"And before you say anything no, it'snot illegal to be here Clary. We're still technically in the club," Jace said, as he closed the door behind him.

Clary had given up trying to argue with him. If she had learnt anything in the past week it was that Jace was persuasive and stubborn. With those two qualities, he made practically anyone listen to him.

They were in a storage room, filled with boxes and cables. It was small and also dark. Windows at the tops of walls let in streetlight, so that it looked as if rectangles had been painted on the ground. Beside her, metal shelving held broken speakers and fog machines.

"What could you possibly want to see here? Out of all the places in New York, this is the one you chose." She turned to face Jace.

"I'm giving everything a chance," Jace said grinning. Clary couldn't help it, she smiled back.

"What do we do now? Just sit around?"

"We could dance." She looked at Jace to see if he was kidding, but he wasn't facing her.

"Okay," Clary said, stepping towards him.

Jace paused, long enough for thoughts to form in her mind. Maybe he wasn't being serious.

"Okay," he replied. He caught her off guard when he put his hands on her waist. She didn't realise that he meant to dance like _that_. But she didn't pull away. It felt sort of nice.

She put her hands on his shoulders.

"There's no music," Clary said, her voice quiet. She didn't really care about that, but she wanted to say something.

"That doesn't matter." His voice was as soft as her hers.

Together, they moved slowly around the room, Jace leading. After a few minutes, she rested her head against his shoulder. It felt right there. It felt comfortable.

No thoughts were going through her mind as they danced, she was strangely and blissfully empty of any worry.

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_I was at Pandemonium last night. With a girl, she was pretty. I can't wait to see her again. I asked her to dance, and I was _so _terrified that she'd say no, but she didn't. And we danced. And it was great. __I know I hated America before, but this trip, and the girl I met, are making me change my thoughts.__X_X_X_X_X_X_X_X_X_X_X_X_X_X_X_X_X__

**_So this was a bit late... I was supposed to upload it an hour ago, back in 2019, but it took longer to write than I expected. I basically wrote it all today, or yesterday, I'm too tired for this._****_Anyway, thank you for all the reviews and favourites and follows!!! And thanks for just reading!! _**


	10. Day 8

"The formula for the perfect tense."

"Avoir and the past participle of the verb you've chosen," Clary replied, the formula having been ingraved into her mind by Jace.

"Well, I've done everything I can," Jace said. "Now it's just up to you and that midget head of yours." He tapped his finger against her skull. For the past five minutes, Jace had been quizzing her on her knowledge of French, on all of the things that he had ever taught her, hoping that the last minute cramming would help with her immediate test.

"Here comes the witch," Jace muttered, as Mrs Verlac strode into the room. Having deposited her bag onto her desk, she picked up the test papers and began distributing them. As she did that, she gave the same spiel that every teacher gave when it was time for exams. So Clary tuned out her endless rants on the consequences of cheating and instead mentally tested herself on the meanings of words.

Marrant meant funny, timide meant shy.

She continued testing herself, trying to recall the words that she had spent learning with Jace for hours, until Mrs Verlac slapped down a test paper in front of Clary. She delivered it with a fake smile. "Good luck, you're going to need it," she said, before she went onto the next desk.

It was at that moment that Clary was truly glad that she had spent time listening to Jace teaching her.

"You've got until the rest of the lesson to finish you're paper," said Mrs Verlac, when she had reached the front of the classroom. "You may begin now."

From the corner of her eye, Clary could see Jace lean forward slightly. "Good luck," he whispered. Looking up, she was met with a grin. "If you're stuck you can ask me for help."

With his offer in mind, Clary flipped over the paper. _Write a letter to your friend describing your holiday in no less than 100 words. _

Below that questions were written in French about the things that needed to be included such as the perfect tense, opinions and justifications. She could _do_ that. She understood the questions and she already had an idea of what she would write.

When she put her pen to the paper, she hoped that she wouldn't need Jace's help at all. To her surprise, and delight, she didn't.

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"Hey, Fray! Over here!" Simon could be seen waving at Clary from the other side of the canteen. Jordan was sitting beside him, talking to other exchange students.

Smiling, she followed a winding path to his table, Jace behind her. The tables and chairs were arranged haphazardly so Clary couldn't go on a straight route to Simon. Instead she had to dodge moving people, sidestep outstretched feet, step over fallen food. This was why Clary hated eating in the canteen. It was always noisy and dirty but she had to because Simon and Isabelle always did.

Finally reaching his table, Clary sat down heavily, still with a large grin on her face. Simon rose an eyebrow. "Didn't you just do your French test?" he asked.

Clary nodded, not saying anything.

"And how was it?" Simon asked

Putting down her apple, Clary replied with, "It was _great_."

"Are you feeling okay? Or are you just possessed by some smarter child?"

"I'm not possessed -"

"That's what all possessed people say."

"Jace tutored me. He's been helping me for the past couple of days."

Glancing at Jace, Simon was looking at his bored figure, clearly very sceptical. Jace had been watching their interaction with his head on top of his hand, chewing on his apple. Simon's face was saying all that he wasn't, _how the hell was Jace any use? _

Turning away from Jace, Simon changed the subject. "I've got a band rehearsal in a few minutes."

"A band rehearsal? Why are you having one now?" Clary asked, taking a bite of her sandwich.

Simon shrugged. "Eric wanted one."

"Oh. Anyway, where's Izzy?" Clary asked, looking at the empty space beside Simon that had always been her designated space.

"She had some homework she needed to do, so she said she couldn't eat with us." They then lapsed into silence as Simon began the process of eating his lunch quickly. An impressive two minutes later, he had finished. Clary hadn't even eaten half her sandwich.

"I'm gonna go now, bye. See you... Should we go to Java Jones later?"

Clary looked at Jace, debating her answer. He didn't notice and continued staring at something beneath the table. His eyes moved ever so slightly to the right and then to left, again and again.

"I don't know, I've got some homework and stuff," Clary replied.

"Okay, fine. Hey Jordan, you done?" Simon turned to Jordan who was just crumpling up the wrapper of his sandwich.

"Yeah, sure let's go," he said, getting up. "Bye." The last part was aimed at Jace but he didn't seem to have heard.

Another few minutes passed and finally Jace looked up picking up his apple. "Where'd everyone go?" he asked, looking around at the empty table.

"It's been about ten minutes, everyone's done eating," Clary said. She could see Jace trying to discreetly slip his phone into his pocket.

When his eyes met the clock on the wall opposite them, they widened. "Oh." Picking up his now slightly brown apple, he took a bite into it, revealing the crisp whiteness beneath.

"Hurry up will you, 'cause I'm finished and bored," Clary said, gathering up her rubbish.

Jace nodded and got up, tossing his half-finished apple and untouched sandwiches into the bin. Brow furrowed, Clary remarked, "I meant hurry up, not don't eat at all."

He just shrugged. "I'm not really hungry anymore." It was clear that he didn't want to talk about it, about what the 'anymore' meant.

So she decided to drop the topic and instead moved onto something else.

"So what's it actually like living in England?"

"What do you mean?" he said slowly, cautiously.

"Like about your school and stuff. What do you there? You know, just everyday stuff," she said, as they stepped into the quieter hallway.

"You act like it's some alien planet. It's not _that_ different from here. Anyway you ready for another night trip?"

Clary groaned. "_Another_ night. Please don't tell me it's some bar or club."

"Nah. It's something a bit more fun," he said, grinning. Clary knew that grin. It was the grin he'd had when they had been about to trespass into that building a few days ago. A grin that seemed to make his entire body buzz with energy.

"You're idea of fun's a little different from the average person."

"But who wants to be _average_?"

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"So close your eyes then," Clary instructed. Jace obliged, covering his eyes with his palms.

"Just so you know, I'm expecting something good now," said Jace.

"And you won't be disappointed."

It was about half four and they were a few steps away from Java Jones. The only reason for them being there was because Clary had decided that _she'd _show Jace some places in New York and the only place she could think of was Java Jones. So there they were.

"Okay, so take about three steps forward - actually take another one - and then turn 90 degrees to the right. Oh wait! I meant left!" She quickly pulled him away from the car that he was about to step in front of. It would have been sort of hard to explain to her mother if he didn't come back in one piece. Or at all.

Gently, she tugged on Jace's arm and guided him into the coffee shop, not wanting any accidents.

Clary thought Jace had probably guessed where they were by now, after all the smell of coffee seeped into every crevice in the room.

With her hand resting lightly on his back, she carefully led them through the room and to a sofa at the back. It was situated beside a window, letting in light that lay against half the sofa, but not the other half. On a nearby table, a half empty coffee cup sat, the liquid sucking in all the light so that there appeared to an absence of _something_.

"Can I look now?" Jace asked when they were sitting.

"Okay fine."

He was silent for a few moments after he uncovered his eyes because they were adjusting to the dimness of the room, trying to catch its every detail. Slowly, he lifted up his hand to block the rays of light landing upon his hair and face.

"And so this is where you spend most of your time?" asked Jace, raising an eyebrow.

"Who wouldn't want to spend their time here?"

"Me."

"You won't say that when I get you a drink. What do you want?" Clary was standing up now and this was one of the rare times that she could actually look down on someone. Well someone who wasn't Max.

"Just coke or lemonade I guess," he replied from his place on the low sofa.

Once again, Clary could be found weaving through the tightly packed shop, dodging laughing people and inconveniently placed furniture. A minute later she was at the counter, only one person in front of her.

They were fumbling through their wallet while their foot was curled around the wheel of a stroller protectively.

"Just give me a minute..." the dark-haired man said. Pulling out a few coins, he placed them on the counter, where they spun in circles for a few moments before they eventually fell to their sides.

The lady behind the till swept them into her hand and slotted them into the correct compartments in the cash register before sliding a takeout cup of some sort of drink.

"Thanks," the man said, stuffing his wallet into his pocket, taking the drink all the while wheeling the stroller around. Clary had never multi-tasking done so well.

"Next!"

Clary stepped forward. "Could I have a medium black coffee and one can of Sprite, please?"

The lady nodded, grabbing a mug. Meanwhile, Clary searched for her wallet in her school bag. She really needed to tidy it... When your bag became similar to Simon's, it wasn't a good thing. Books, pencils, loose sheets of paper and old drawings were all twisted and crumpled at the bottom of her bag and she could never find anything easily, but her bag was still a _little_ better than Simon's.

After locating her money (she found it beneath a pile of sketches that Clary was certain she had done at least a year ago), she turned back to the lady who was holding out her coffee and Sprite.

She swiftly paid for them before making her way back to Jace. He was on his phone. Again. Only a few steps away and he still hadn't noticed her, instead staring down at the small screen, biting his lip.

It was only when she had sat down that he noticed her and flashed her a smile, that looked sort of forced.

"Thanks," he said, taking the can from Clary and opening it. The next minute was spent in awkward silence and it was only then that Clary realised how _long _a minute could be. She forced her attention to her coffee, but she couldn't drink it properly because it was still scalding hot. Despite that, she took a small sip.

She forced her eyes straight ahead.

She tried to ignore the awkwardness settling between them, so thick it could be felt.

"Is that _coffee_?" Clary seized the opportunity to get out of the awkward moment as fast as she could.

"Yeah, what else would it be?" she asked, turning to meet Jace's incredulous gaze.

"Why would you want to drink something so hot on such a hot day?"

"It's nice, okay," she said, defensively.

"You are one strange person, Clary Fray."

"You're the strange one here. Look around you, practically everyone's drinking coffee here." She waved her free hand about, trying to show Jace that really he was the only one that had a problem with drinking hot beverages in hot weather.

"Well then everyone here is weird and I'm the only sane one."

"I'm pretty sure it's the other way around." Tentatively, she raised the mug to her lips and took a small sip.

Jace scoffed. "Yeah, right."

And just like that, they were back to joking, all awkwardness disappeared as if nothing had ever even occurred.

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"Clary come on, just fall. I'll catch you if anything happens." Jace was standing below her, hands held out.

She was sitting on a wall, the brick scraping against her bare legs. Below, her she could only see Jace's face and hair, which were illuminated by a guttering street light. She could also see small shards of glass on the floor underneath her, glittering like droplets of water.

That was the main reason for why she didn't want to jump. It wasn't because of height (the tree she'd climbed on Saturday had been _a lot_ taller) but because of the glass. It coated the ground thickly, all jagged and sharp and if she stumbled even a little bit, she would probably go face first into it.

"Come on, I'll catch you," Jace said, moving closer. His hands could've touched her knees.

"Okay, fine. I'll jump."

When he continued to look expectant, Clary said, "Move back a bit, I can't get off this."

He complied and moved back, but not too far back that he couldn't catch her if she did slip. Tentatively, she turned around, so that she was no longer looking at Jace, and lowered herself so that she was hanging by her elbows that were hooked around the brick.

She took a deep breath before letting go, falling the last few feet. For a fraction of a second, the sensation of falling inhabited her stomach, before she landed on the ground. Hard.

When she turned around Jace was already walking down the alley. While she followed him, she brushed off her torso, which had dust all over it from the brick wall.

On either side of the alleyway, small broken buildings trapped them, their windows boarded up, their walls cracked and their fences just planks of rotting wood. The ground beneath her feet was gravel, with cigarette stubs littered across the floor like cheap confetti.

They continued walking in silence, but this time it wasn't uncomfortable because they were each wrapped up in their own thoughts. Clary was mostly thinking about Jace. And _not _in the way most girls would think of him. Not that she knew how most girls would think of him.

She was thinking about all of the trips that they had been on. Although she had been downright terrified at the first one, she had still enjoyed it. And all the ones to come. In fact she looked _forward _to them. The reason why it troubled her slightly was because if her mother found out, if her mother found out that she _enjoyed_ breaking into buildings and sneaking into bars and watching Jace down glass after glass of alcohol, she would be dead. Well, that was a slight exaggeration.

She would probably be grounded and not allowed to leave the house for months. Jocelyn was overprotective like that and Clary loved going out by herself, it was the only time anyone wasn't breathing down her neck.

So whenever she was at him now and she saw her mother, her stomach began to churn and her heart beat sped up and she started to stutter. She had an irrational fear that her mum would be able to see the previous night's adventure splayed across her face.

Clary usually shut up and let Jace, who had seen her stuttering, talk instead. He could tell convincing lies she had found out, he made up evenings about them watching TV, doing homework and learning about American culture. Miraculously, after spending just a few days in New York, Clary had even taught him French. Jocelyn hadn't seemed to pick up on the fact that Jace could now fluently speak English, she was probably too caught up in the preparations for her upcoming wedding, not that Clary cared really.

"Where are you going? We're here." She realised then that she had continued walking past Jace, who had stopped a few feet away. Quickly, she went back to him as if nothing had happened.

They were standing in front of a building that looked just as dilapidated as the rest of the ones around them were, but the only difference was that this one looked as if the building had been pretty expensive before. Judging by the intricate, yet now cracked, stone facade, it was probably once the place where wealthy people stayed. A sign hung from a pole extending out from the building, swinging in the wind like a limp piece of clothing left on a washing line.

Squinting her eyes, she tried to read the letters on the sign through the dark that covered everything else. It said 'Hotel Dumont'. Someone had crudely painted an 'r' on top of the 'n' in 'Dumont'. Clary knew what that meant now because she and Jace had learned the adjective 'mort' a few days ago.

"How're we gonna get in?" Clary hoped there wasn't going to be any climbing or crawling involved. She'd already had enough of that today and they'd only gone over one wall. Admittedly, the wall was _much _taller that her, something Jace didn't seem to have a problem with.

"Down here." He pointed to yet _another_ alleyway. Clary honestly thought that they had spent the better part of the previous week in alleys.

Not bothering to argue, she followed him. After all how bad could a cock roach- infested, trash-filled alleyway be? Very bad, she realised belatedly. And Clary wasn't even the kind of girl that had a meltdown at the tiniest stain on her clothes. But this, this was something new.

Upon the wet tarmac (wet with _what_ Clary didn't want to think about) were black bags full of rubbish, scattered about like plush beanbags. Garbage that hadn't quite made it into the bags were grouped in small piles, gathered like leaves in the autumn.

Jace strode through all the filth as if it wasn't there, like the putrid scent that poisoned the air didn't exist. Which Clary knew for a fact _did _exist, the damage it was doing to her nose attesting to its existence.

Crouching down, Jace started fiddling with an iron grate. Clary assumed that it used to cover a window, but there wasn't one there now. The grinding sound of metal against metal suddenly scraped away the silence.

Lifting her hands away from her ears, Clary saw that Jace had pulled the metal away from the window. "Jace..."

"It's fine," he said, standing back. "It's not attached properly, it's just kind of slotted in there."

Then, with an exaggerated bow, he swept his arm towards the empty window frame. "After you."

"Your not-" She was going to ask whether he was being serious, but there was no point wasting breath because he definitely _was_ being serious. "Fine," she muttered.

Sitting down in front the frame, she lowered one leg in slowly, waiting for the moment where a spider or cock roach would run up her leg. When her shoe hit a table, she moved her other leg so that both her feet were resting on the wood. Carefully, she bent her legs, bringing her body through the narrow hole. Once done, she brought her arms inside because they had been supporting her from the outside.

"Okay, I'm inside now!" she called, once she had moved away from the table. She tried to take in her surroundings but the room was too dark and she couldn't make out much.

Clary nearly jumped out of her skin when she heard a shuffling sound behind her, but it was just Jace, dropping into the room.

"So, Miss Fray," he said, stepping towards her, "now that you're in the poshest hotel in the city what do you want to do?"

"It _was_ the poshest hotel in the city, you mean. No one would pay to stay in this dump." She kicked the ground with the edge of her shoe.

"You're not answering my question," he said, teasingly.

"I've never been to a hotel before. I don't know what to do."

"You've never been to one?" Clary could hear the astonishment in his voice.

"Yeah. I've never even left the state."

"Wow," he said, pulling out his phone. "Well you're not missing out on much. New York's pretty awesome."

"How would you know? You've only been visiting dumps like this." The words came out before she could stop them and the way she said them made it seem meaner than she had intended.

Jace just shrugged, his body outlined by the glow from the screen of his phone. "Maybe."

Suddenly, the room was filled with a blinding light. Through her slitted eyes, she saw that it had just been Jace turning the torch on his phone on. He strode towards the door, only looking back when he couldn't hear her follow.

"Come on, we're wasting daylight."

"It's not daytime, " she said, but she followed him anyway.

"Okay, fine. _Moonlight_."

"That doesn't sound as good," Clary said, mostly just to annoy him.

"And what _will_ please you, Goldilocks?"

"Goldilocks? How does that make sense? I'm not even blonde," she said, stopping. Jace stopped as well, turning around so that he could face her. Not that it made any difference because his phone's light was pressed agonist his leg causing the corridor to be once again in darkness.

"Yeah, Goldilocks. She was always like 'oh this porridge is so cold' or 'this chair's too hard' . And you're always like 'this French is too hard' and 'this building's so dangerous'," he said grinning. She could only see his smile because he'd shifted his phone a little so that the corridor was semi lit.

"It was still a terrible nickname," she said.

"Goldilocks, nothing I say is terrible," he said, walking down the hallway again.

"You're not gonna call me anything but Goldilocks now, are you?" She knew that Jace would do anything to annoy her.

"Not a chance, Goldilocks."

Clary sighed. They had arrived at a wooden staircase, rotted away in places, splintered in others. Jace ascended them with ease, as if he spent his free time climbing stairs in abandoned, dodgy buildings. Clary wouldn't put it past him.

Even though she had spent the past week with him, she still felt as if she knew nothing about him. Every personal question she asked was expertly avoided and she had given up trying to ask. If he didn't want to say anything, then she didn't feel right to make him.

Once they had reached the top of the staircase, they took a left and then continued walking down that corridor until they arrived at the first door.

It was missing a handle, there was just a bunch of small black holes to indicate where it had been. Along the bottom of the door, there were scuff marks and the wood had splintered, as if somebody had spent their time kicking at it.

Jace, however, didn't kick it and instead pushed it lightly. It swung open, without the door handle stopping it anymore. He turned off his torch and pocketed his phone before moving out of the doorway so Clary could see what was beyond.

Moonlight streamed through the smashed skylights far above her head. The dust caught in its light drifted slowly and serenely, like snowflakes against a dark sky. To her right, the remains of an extravagant staircase remained, the carpet upon it the colour of the shriveled, fallen petals of a tulip, its once grand red colour long gone.

But that was not what drew Clary's eyes.

Instead it was the sheer amount of graffiti on the walls. There was everything from crude, badly spray painted words to more elaborate pieces, artwork that Clary knew would take skill and effort.

Jace was kneeling down in the middle of the room, searching through his rucksack. The light glinted on the silver objects that he pulled out. Spray paint cans.

There were only two, red judging by the colour on the wrapper. When he looked up, he met Clary's gaze with a slow grin.

"Here," he said, tossing one towards her. "Knock yourself out."

He got up shaking his can, the rattling sound echoing through the large room. Circling the walls, he walked for a bit before standing by a place that had dozens of sentances and singular words scrawled across it.

Lifting up his can, he painted a 'J' on the wall. Once again, he shook his can and then painted a 'H'. He kept on doing that until he had written, 'J H M WAS HERE'.

"Original," Clary remarked, sweeping her hand across the one above it which said, 'S H C M WERE HERE'. Most of the other words around it were a variation of that.

"Like you could think of something better," he said, dropping the can so that it landed next to a rusted blue one.

Deciding to prove him wrong, Clary went up to the wall and painted 'J H M was not here'. While she wrote the 'H', she wondered what it stood for.

As she stood back, Jace laughed and said sarcastically, "Yeah that was definitely better than mine. _Definitely_."

Clary joined in with his laughter, and they stayed like that for a few minutes laughing at something that no one else would have found funny.

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**_So this is late... Like 10 days late. What can I say I procrastinated really badly, I mean I basically wrote all of this in the past few days._****_Anyway, shoutout to TouchMyMangoFuckers because she's commented on like the past six chapters!! So thanks, it means a lot to me that someone actually put time to say that they liked my stories, and also THANK YOU for all of my other reviewers, but I can't be bothered to type out all your names, but still you're appreciated._****_Also I want to know where you think this story is going. I mean people have commented a little bit about what they think and they're kinda on the right lines but I want to know what everyone else thinks._****_As always thanks for reading and following and thank you for reading this rambling author's note (Because I know I probably wouldn't have). _**


	11. Day 9

Jace hadn't been in that room for almost a week. But there was something about him that drew him in there, even though he knew it hurt, like he was poking a bruise. He didn't know _why_ he liked it there, but he thought it was because he didn't want to be terrified of it. Who was terrified of a room?

Taking a deep breath, he lay down on the floor. There was a perfectly good bed beside him, but that was out of the question, obviously. That bed wasn't a place to sleep in. It was just another memory.

Lifting up his phone, he checked the time: 2:45am. He could probably spend about an hour more here before Clary would notice. At the thought of her name, he smiled slightly. There was just something about her that kind of made him feel happy, even with all of the worry taking up residence in his body. But Clary distracted him. Mostly.

He didn't know why, but she was fun to spend time with. Easy to joke with and she never pried or continually asked questions about his family. There was also something good about knowing that she'd follow him on any of his excursions across New York. Even though she complained a bit, he knew that she enjoyed them and it made him feel satisfied that he had convinced her that he wasn't completely crazy.

As he closed his eyes, something vibrated in his hand. His phone. All of the temporary peace that he had just had had been blown away, filled with a much stronger worry.

Turning on his phone, he read the short message on his lock screen._ Mum's okay now. _

But that still didn't stop him from worrying. Things could change so easily and he still had two more days left before he went home, but that was still two days too many.

Admittedly, he _had _wanted to go to New York (in his eyes he _had_ to go to New York) but he didn't think he would be quite so worried.

But now he just wanted to go home.

So he did the closest thing to that and pulled out the small journal and opened it to the correct page.

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_You'd never think that it'd be easy for a sixteen year old to sneak into an office building at around midnight. I didn't think it would be easy. But I was wrong, to my relief. I mean I stayed on the roof of that building for a good couple of hours and you'd think someone would notice and be like, 'Oh hey look at that blond kid on that roof' but no one did.__So I stuck around and threw all the loose change in my pockets off the roof. Why? Because there was something satisfying about the way it fell, but didn't make a sound that I could hear.__X_X_X_X_X_X_X_X_X_X_X_X_X_X_X_X_X___New York is hella strange, but it's better to view it at night. It seems more... I don't know, different. I found some great old abandoned hotel and did some graffiti. It was kind of nice, leaving my mark on the city, albeit in a small way.__It also was nice that C. joined me. And then we spray painted the building together with our blue cans. Actually, she's kinda cute, but not in the normal way. In a way that I don't think other people have noticed and only I have. It makes me feel better that I'm the only one who sees her like that._

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With a deep sigh, Jace closed the book. There was only one page left in it. Just enough space for one last entry.

The last one ever.

The rest of his night was spent in a haze of tiredness, he knew that he had left the house, got onto a train, arrived at Clary's, fell into bed, but he didn't _remember_ them. It was just sort of lost, like a dream slipping away in the first few moments of waking up.

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"Do you think she'll have marked the tests by now?" Jace asked, as they shouldered their way through the corridor. Even with dark circles under his eyes (which Clary knew hadn't been that obvious until that morning) and messy hair, he still caught the attention of almost all of the female population at St Xavier's.

"Yeah, she'll definitely have them marked," Clary replied.

"All of them?" Jace asked doubtfully as they went into their classroom. "She couldn't have marked that many papers unless she had no life."

Clary laughed, swinging her bag onto the table. "Yeah, she doesn't. She marked them all in the space of a day with our last test as well."

Jace was about to reply when Mrs Verlac marched into the room, her heels clicking against the floor. She began slamming the test papers down on desks all the while talking, but Clary wasn't listening. Jace was leaning towards her, whispering in her ear, "Would you be mad if we didn't go out anywhere today?"

"Depends," she murmured back. Again he leaned in close so that his hair brushed her ear. "Depends on what?"

Clary watched Mrs Verlac talk, well shout really, to a student near the front row. "Depends on whether we were gonna do something that involves breaking into a building."

"Now that you mention it... Actually, I didn't have anything planned today."

"Oh," she said. She didn't realise that she'd ever _miss_ their trips across New York.

"Yeah, oh. I just wanted to stay inside today." Clary was saved from replying because Mrs Verlac had arrived at their desk. "Well Clary. It seems a miracle has occurred." She held the marked test paper in her hand but she paused and instead turned away from Clary's desk. "Everyone turn to page 46 of your textbooks and continue with the work we were doing two lessons ago." At that the class erupted into noise again.

Without another word, Mrs Verlac, _finally_, dropped the paper onto her desk. Jace leaned over to get a better look, nudging her when she didn't flip the paper over. So she did.

Across the top, in red pen, were the numbers 97%. "I did it," she whispered slowly. She still didn't understand.

"Of course you did. _I_ tutored you."

When she looked back at Jace, he was leaning back on his chair, only the back two legs in contact with the ground. And then she did something sort of bold. Well, _very_ bold, for her at least.

Leaning forward, she wrapped her arms around him, for no more than two seconds. She could see his slightly stunned face as she pulled back and said, "Thanks."

"Who knew you'd ever get that happy over a French test. I mean maybe I should just get you that for your birthday, a French test with full marks."

"My birthday's August the 23rd, you're going to be long gone by then," replied Clary.

"I'll find a way," he said. Rolling her eyes, she turned away, but inside she was smiling knowing that maybe this exchange had given her a friend.

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"I thought you said we weren't gonna go anywhere." They had just left the subway station and were walking along small streets.

"We're not. We're gonna get ice cream," replied Jace, taking her arm so that they could take a sharp turn.

"Finally, something normal!" exclaimed Clary. Unfortunately, she hadn't had ice cream in a while and had been craving it for a long time.

"Just kidding, we're breaking into the Empire State Building."

Clary stopped. "What, but we're -"

It then occurred to her that they weren't even near the Empire State Building and also that Jace was laughing.

"You actually _believed _me, didn't you?" he said, when he had stopped laughing.

"I wouldn't put it past you," said Clary, trying to remain angry to save her dignity.

"I wouldn't ever do _that_ though," Jace said, as they began walking again. "The look on your face though. God, I wish I caught it on camera."

"It wasn't that funny."

"Yeah it was," Jace said, laughing again.

"Shut up," she said, but she said it half-heartedly a small smile on her face.

The rest of their journey to the ice cream shop was just like that, them joking around and laughing. When they arrived their, Jace dug out his money from his pocket and Clary began to shuffle through her bag for hers.

"Could I have one scoop of chocolate ice cream, please?" asked Jace from beneath the shade of the awning hanging above the store front. The lady nodded, scooping a large ball of ice cream and placing it on a cone.

"Did you want anything," she asked Clary, handing over Jace's ice cream.

"Yeah. Two scoops of bubblegum." Clary said pointing to the tin that held the correct flavour. All of the ice creams were laid out like paint on a paint pallette.

Once they had paid, they walked away from the shop and into the heat. "Why'd you get chocolate? That's boooring," said Clary.

"No, vanilla would be boring and chocolate's nice. But I thought you'd get some coffee flavoured ice cream?"

"I like bubblegum," Clary said. "And anyway I don't have to get coffee all the time, do I?"

"It was just a question. Where are we going now, though?" They had arrived at a small park and were wandering through it, staying close to the trees and out of the sun that glared at them.

"This would probably be the point when you'd say, 'off to revise for French' or something like that," Clary said. Jace had sat down on a bench grinning up at her.

"You know, that does sound vaguely familiar..."

Clary sat down on the bench but immediately bounced back up again. It was _hot_. But that shouldn't have come as a surprise seeing as it had been lying in the sun all day.

"What?" Jace asked.

"It's too hot to sit on," Clary said.

"See! That's _exactly _what Goldilocks would say!" _Not this again_, Clary thought.

"I thought you were done with that nickname," groaned Clary.

"I'll never be done with that nickname, Goldilocks." Jace leaner back on the bench, tossing one arm over its back.

"I'd throw this ice cream at you if I didn't want it so badly." Clary knew that Jace knew that it was an empty threat. She was grinning after all.

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"Clary!" Jocelyn shouted, her voice muffled because of the walls between them.

"Yeah!" she shouted back, putting down her pencils.

"Come here! Right now!" she said urgently. Clary froze. Fear gripped at her stomach, making her heart pound. She could feel its beat her ears. Jocelyn sounded serious. What if she'd found out about her and Jace's secret?

Getting out of the chair, she headed towards the door of her bedroom, knowing that if she delayed seeing her mum any longer it would be suspicious. As she stepped out of the hallway, she saw Jace poking his head out of his bedroom door, eyebrow raised.

_I don't know, _she mouthed back. She went down the hallway and into the kitchen where she had heard Jocelyn's voice from. Jocelyn herself was bent over the sink.

"What is _this_?" she gestured to the stack of dirty dishes that Clary had forgotten to wash. Inside, Clary was heaving a sigh of relief. All the tension and fear rushed out of her, leaving behind a light feeling. She felt like grinning, but that would probably annoy her mother.

"I forgot, I'm sorry. I'll do it now," Clary said, taking the sponge from Jocelyn's hand.

"Thank you. Dinner's in the fridge, and I'm staying at Luke's tonight. If anything happens call," said her mother. It was the exact same words that she said every time she left for Luke's house. Taking her jacket from the back of the chair, she left the room. A few moments later, the door slammed shut.

Clary threw the sponge down on the table. The dishes could be done later. When she turned around, Jace was there, leaning against the doorway to the kitchen.

"What was all that about?" he asked.

"Oh it was just about me not doing the dishes," she said, flinging her hand in the direction of the sink.

"And being the procrastinater that you are, you're not doing them," he said, grinning.

"'Procrastinater' is not a word," Clary replied, trying to leave the room. She couldn't, however, because Jace was blocking the entry.

"Can you move please?"

Jace just smiled at her. "Not until you do the dishes."

"Why do you care if I do the dishes now or later?" asked Clary, curious.

"Because if you're not gonna do them now, you're not gonna do them ever." Clary knew that he was right, but that still didn't persuade her mind into doing the dishes.

"I'll do them later. I promise," she said, waving a dismissive hand at him as she passed through the doorway. Jace let her through this time, going into the kitchen as she passed. A few seconds later she could hear the sound of water hitting ceramic.

Confused, she turned around and saw Jace at the sink, washing the dishes. He had a sponge in hand, a peaceful expression on his face.

"Why are you washing the dishes?" she asked slowly. Sometimes, a lot of the time, she found Jace confusing.

"Because you're gonna forget and your mum's a nice person. I don't want her angry." And then Clary suddenly felt bad. When Jace phrased it that way, of course she felt bad - and guilty.

Moving towards the sink, she picked up a sponge with the washing up liquid on it and began scrubbing at a dirty plate.

"I didn't think it'd take less than a minute to persuade you to do the dishes," Jace said, shooting her a sideways grin. He had a nice grin, exposing the tips of his teeth. One of them had a chip in it.

Clary handed her dish, covered in bubbles, to Jace so that he could wash it. The repetitive motion was in a strange way peaceful, it didn't require any thought and so Clary let her mind wander.

They continued to wash the dishes by hand (Jocelyn didn't own a dishwasher) until they were done. Wiping his hands on a towel, Jace turned to Clary.

"D'you want to make something to eat?" he asked, placing the towel down beside the sink.

"Mum said that she'd already made something to eat." Clary headed to the fridge and pulled out a dish of lasagne.

"No, I meant _bake_ something."

Clary stared at him as if he had uttered words that did not exist. "I've never made anything before. Hell, I don't even know how that oven works."

Now Jace was mirroring Clary's expression. "Come on. It's not that hard. I bake stuff sometimes at home."

Clary burst out laughing. "You, you bake _cakes_?"

"Not everyday, but once in a while, when... I feel like it. Are you saying that guys can't bake cakes?"

"What? No! I just didn't know that you baked, but yeah sure you can make something. I doubt we have any of the correct ingredients, but you can look through the cupboards."

Jace shrugged, heading over to one of the cabinets that Clary pointed to. He began pulling out ingredients - flour, sugar - but Clary's mind was not focused on him. She was still thinking about him baking. She could not imagine a Jace with an apron on and flour on him, but Clary had to admit that she wouldn't mind seeing that.

"Do you have any scales?" he asked, effectively breaking her out of her daydream of Jace kneading cookie dough, which she was trying not to laugh at.

"Yeah," she said, heading over to a cabinet above the counter top. On her tiptoes, she tried to reach for them but, alas, she was once again too short.

"I've seen eight year olds taller than you," teased Jace, coming up behind her. He got the scales down without having to stand on the tips of his toes.

"Why do tall people always feel the need to insult short people?" Clary asked, used to the teasing as she received it from Simon daily.

"Because you're just so fun to insult," he said, heading over to the space beside the oven where he had put all of the other ingredients.

"Do you have any vanilla extract?" he asked, weighing the flour. "I couldn't find any."

"Yeah it's..." Her voice trailed off as she realised it was in a cabinet that she couldn't reach. Just her luck.

Not wanting any other jokes that made fun of her height, Clary brought a chair over to the cabinet as quietly as she could. Standing on the wood, she opened the cupboard and began searching it for the vanilla extract.

Unsurprisingly, it was in the top shelf, right at the back. If she tilted her head in the correct position, she could see it, but she was still unable to reach it. Not wanting to admit defeat, she took a careful step onto the worktop. _Now_ she could reach it. Clary took it quickly, not wanting Jace to see what effort she had had to put in to get the vanilla extract.

Climbing off the chair, she turned around - and realised that Jace had been watching her struggles. He was casually leaning against the cupboards, an amuse smile on his face.

"This is why it's so funny teasing short people. No one tall would ever have to do that," he said, laughing.

"Shut up," she said, dropping the small bottle in her hand beside the pile of ingredients that Jace had found. Clary then headed over to the, sink to wash her hands again as they were covered in dust now.

When she turned back, Jace was putting the butter in the microwave. "It makes it easier to stir," he said, seeing her confused look. "Could you weigh 100 grams of sugar?"

"Okay..." she said. She didn't use the metric system for weighing anything and neither did her mum when she occasionally baked. With a bowl in hand, she went over to the scales and saw that the measurement was already set to grams.

Carefully, she poured the sugar into the bowl and turned around to hand it Jace. She watched him mix the butter and sugar slowly.

"What are we actually making?" Clary asked, as he cracked an egg into the bowl.

"Cake," he replied, slightly distracted. He was trying to get an eggshell that he had dropped out of the bowl.

Clary rolled her eyes at his response. "I know _that_. What _type_ of cake are we making?"

"I don't know. Chocolate chip maybe, whatever we've got here." She now watched Jace as he cracked another egg, though this time no eggshell dropped into the mixture.

"Do you have an electric whisk?" he asked, putting the bowl down.

"Yeah, I'll get it," she said. Fortunately, the whisk was in a cabinet beneath the sink. Unfortunately, Jace had picked up on her good fortune.

"Aren't you happy that you could actually reach it this time?" There was a teasing edge to his voice.

"Aren't you happy that you can tease me again?"

"Yes. Very." He took the whisk from her and plugged it into a socket on the wall.

They spent the next few minutes in silence, mainly because a proper conversation could not be heard over the sound of the whisk. Instead, Jace concentrated on making the cake and Clary concentrated on watching him make it.

Once he had deemed the sugar, butter and eggs fully mixed, he turned the whisk off and headed to the oven.

"Oh," he said, when he was there.

"What?" she asked, coming over to where he was kneeling down.

"The temperature's all in Fahrenheit, isn't it?"

"Yeah," she said still not getting his point.

"Well I bake in Celsius at home," he said, standing up.

"Just convert the measurements on Google or something."

"Yeah, but it'll probably give me some weird decimal," he said, but he pulled out his phone anyway. Bending down again, he adjusted the oven to the correct temperature.

Deciding to do something useful, Clary lined the cupcake tins with their white paper cases (which had thankfully been in her reach). They then filled them with the cake mixture that Jace had made - or Jace filled them and Clary ate some of it while he wasn't looking. She realised that he had seen because, as he was placing the tray in the oven, he said, "How did you think I _wouldn't_ notice you when you ate at least half of the cake mix, Clary?"

Clary laughed in response.

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"But Izzy! Please!" Max pleaded, clutching his book to his chest. Isabelle had just ordered him to go to bed, since Maryse was coming home late today. This, Max thought, was completely out of character for Isabelle, it was always Alec who was the stricter sibling.

It was this reason that made Max want to stay up later, after all he'd stayed up _much _later than 9:00 on a school night before with Izzy.

"Max, you can't even sit straight anymore. Go to bed," she was standing over him, hands on her hips.

Even he had to admit she had a terrifying expression on her face.

"Please," he said, trying again. "It's always Alex who's the bossy boring one. You're my most favourite sister, you're waaaay better than Alec."

"Max I'm your _only _sister. And flattery won't get you anywhere." With that, she swung Max into her arms and carried him out of the door and into the hallway.

"Izzy!" he screeched, trying to slip out of her arms, but it was no use.

"Isabelle, don't murder him," Alec said. He was sitting on the bottom step of the stairs, doing his shoelaces.

"Where are _you_ going?" Izzy asked, head tilted slightly.

"None of your business," he replied.

"When're you going to be back?" she said, continuing on as if she hadn't heard him.

"Why does it matter? It's not like you're the responsible one here." He picked up his jacket and shrugged it on.

Isabelle huffed and rolled her eyes. They both watched as Alec left the house, only turning away when the door clicked behind him.

"Where do you think he's going?" wondered Max aloud.

"Who knows? But that doesn't matter," she said, going up the stairs, "what matters is that it's your bedtime now."

"Aw, Izzy -"

"Max mum's gonna be _so_ angry if you're not in bed by the time she's home."

They were outside the bathroom and Isabelle turned on the light before stepping into it. Perching on the edge of the bath, she let go of Max.

"Go on, brush your teeth. If you don't they'll rot 'cause of all the chocolate you ate earlier."

Max sighed. Although she was the more laid back sibling, Izzy was persistent when she was determined. So as there was no other option, he brushed his teeth, the full two minutes because if he brushed for even ten seconds less, Izzy would know. How she would know he had no clue, maybe she counted the seconds?

Once done, Izzy took his damp hand and led him out of the bathroom and into his room.

"You better be in your pajamas when I get back." He heard the door close.

As quickly as he could (so that he wouldn't annoy her), he slipped into his pajamas, sliding a torch and a book under his pillow. Izzy would never find out. All he had to do was wait an hour or so until she'd locked herself up in her room yet again.

"You done yet, Max?" asked Izzy, her voice muffled from behind the door.

Hurriedly, he scrambled onto the bed, making sure that she wouldn't be able to tell what he was hiding.

"Yeah, I'm done!" he called, when he had positioned himself correctly.

Peeking her head around the door, she switched the light off as the door drifted open. Surprisingly, she didn't leave and instead went over to his bed.

"Move up a bit," she said, tugging at the bedsheets. Reluctantly, he did while trying to push the book and torch as far away from Isabelle as possible.

She then lay down beside him, kissing him on top of his head. To say Max was confused was an understatement.

"Izzy, what are you doing here? Why aren't you in your room?"

For a few moments, she was quiet. Then, slowly, she opened one eye.

"I thought you'd like me here," she said.

_I do, but you're going to tell me off for reading at night_, Max thought.

So he tried to quickly change the conversation. "Is Mrs Herondale still on holiday?"

"Who? Oh her... Yeah she is, why'd you ask?"

"Because I saw a light on in her house yesterday." He omitted the part about how he had actually seen the light on this morning (in the very _early _morning) because Izzy didn't need to know that he had been reading that late at night. It wasn't like he _usually_ spent his night reading, it was just a one off occasion.

"You must have been seeing stuff. Mum said that she wasn't coming back for a couple weeks at least." Suddenly, she stretched her arm beneath the pillow and then froze. All thoughts about Mrs Herondale and her possibly haunted house flew out of Max's mind.

Instinctively, his hand went out to clutch the pillow but this just made him appear more guilty. He could feel Izzy tugging at the objects underneath his pillow. When she slid her arm out from under the pillow, she was holding his torch and book.

"Maxwell Joseph Lightwood! What is this?" Even though she had used his full name, she wasn't too angry. On the contrary, she was grinning in a teasing way.

"My book and torch," he muttered, when she continued to hold his possessions out of his reach, holding them high above her head.

"And what were you going to do with them?"

"Read with them." He scowled at the rumpled bedsheets. He had been _so_ close.

"After I told you not to?" Max knew that she knew how to annoy him.

"Yes." Suddenly, his book and torch fell beside him. He looked up to see if his sister had accidentally dropped them but she hadn't.

"Here you can read it." Her face was missing the devious smile she had had on before.

Highly suspicious of Isabelle, he took his book and torch, cradling them to his chest. Izzy laughed. "I'm not gonna take them," she said hopping off of his bed.

"Why?" he asked, tightening his hold around the book.

"Because I'm your favourite sister," she said, mimicking what he had said earlier on. She took a few backwards steps towards the hallway.

"Goodnight Max." The door closed behind her.

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**I feel like I'm going to be one of those authors whose fanfiction slowly deteriorates and their updates come slower until they finally just stop, leaving an unfinished fanfiction behind. And when I first came up with this story idea (in a French lesson back in June) I was reluctant to actually write it down. Mainly because I'd began a fanfiction in February but I'd taken it down a month later because I hadn't finished it. So when I began planning this story l (something I hadn't done with my other fanfic) I promised myself that I'd only publish it if I was truly dedicated to it. Of course I still am, I mean I've got basically all the chapters planned out and I want to write them, but this one was hard to write. I'd written the majority of it (up until the part with the whisk) in the first week. But then I stopped and didn't write anything for a while, for a lot of reasons. So if the rest of the scene is bad at least you know that it was because I was pretty out of it.****Anyway, now that I've finished my rambling I wanted to thank everyone. I mean 27 follows (you probably think it's a tiny number, but trust me it is HUGE, it's about a quarter of a hundred) also all the reviews. I read a guest review saying that they wanted more sibling bonding time for the Lightwoods so I did some in this chapter, hope you like it. If you want anything added I'll try to do it, so long as it's not going to affect the storyline too much.****This is definitely the longest author's note I've ever done, but thanks for reading (the story and this long note)!!! **


	12. Day 10

Clary had never been on holiday outside of the country. She'd never even left the _state_. Occasionally, she'd spend a couple of nights at Luke's farmhouse with her mum but that was it.

What did she even need to take on holiday? She had procrastinated for so long that she was now stuck packing her suitcase the night before she left for England.

Sighing, she flung herself down on her bed again. Did it really matter if she left the packing for a few minutes? The part of her mind that she didn't like to listen to (the one that told her to do homework) knew that a few minutes would make a _big _difference and she should just pack up her belongings.

Ignoring that part of her mind was her best option really.

As she was ignoring her mind, she decided to get something to eat. Procrastination tired her. The house was silent when she stepped out of her room. Jace had just come back from another trip and was in his bedroom meanwhile her mother was inside her room saying that she had a headache.

The kitchen was just as quiet when she entered it. Upon the table in the corner were the cupcakes that she and Jace had made, six of them already gone. Jocelyn must have eaten some as well.

Sitting down on the chair, she picked up a cupcake. She didn't regret the bite she then took into it because they were going to get stale anyway. Besides there were only three people living in the house and two of them were leaving tomorrow.

A few minutes later she was in the living room drawing on her sketchpad. She wasn't putting much thought into it and was simply drawing whatever came to her mind, just doodles really. So when Jace sat down heavily beside her she jumped.

"I thought you were supposed to be packing," he said.

"What made you think that?" she asked innocently.

"Just the fact that your suitcase is empty."

"It is not! I -"

"Put in a pair of shorts. I can see that, and only that." He shot her an amused grin that caused her to smile to herself slightly.

"What about you then?" she asked after a slight pause. "Have _you _packed yet?"

"Of course I have," he said, slinging his arm on the back of the sofa. She could see her hair brushing his fingers.

"I bet you're gonna be that kind of person who packs a few minutes before we leave." Clary opened her mouth indignantly, but Jace continued talking. "Actually, I take that back. I _know_ that you're that kind of person."

"And what kind of -" She was cut off by the sound of Jocelyn shouting.

"What did you _think_? Why the hell would I _ever _tell you?"

Immediately, Clary knew it was her biological father. Both he (Valentine) and Jocelyn had divorced when Clary was young, mainly because her mother had never been happy in the relationship. Clary didn't know the full details (she had only been _eight_ when it happened) and could only recall months of them shouting at each other while she lay in her bedroom with Jonathan.

That was the most they ever did, there was never any physical harming done, at least not to Clary's knowledge.

Jocelyn's bedroom door then slammed, so that the rest of the conversation was muffled and Clary couldn't understand what she was saying.

Turning around, Clary could see Jace awkwardly looking around the room, as if he hadn't heard the words that Jocelyn had been shouting.

"Yeah, that was my dad," she said, picking up her pencil again. "My parents got divorced when I was little, not really sure why though. It wasn't as if he was abusive or anything, they just started shouting a lot one day and a few months later they weren't married anymore."

She tilted her sketchbook, to see her drawing in a different angle.

"That kinda sucks," Jace said, after a short pause.

"Not really, I mean, it probably sounds bad, but I don't really miss my dad that much. He wouldn't exactly win any parenting awards."

Apparently Jace didn't know how to reply because, when he next spoke, he had changed the conversation. "You know a while back, when I asked you about that painting you did of Central Park, can I see it?"

It took Clary a few moments to process what he had been talking about and when she did she rose her eyebrows. "What, the one you asked about when you were _drunk_?"

"I told you, I wasn't _that_ drunk," he said grinning. He grinned a lot around her, she noticed. "I was just a little tipsy."

"No you were completely wasted," she said, grinning with him. So what if she smiled more when he was around?

"That's such an exaggeration. If I was wasted I probably wouldn't remember much and I'd be doing stupid stuff."

"And you don't do that normally?"

"I'm not the stupid one here."

It took Clary a split second to realise what he had just said.

X_X_X_X_X_X_X_X_X_X_X_X_X_X_X_X_X_

Isabelle had no clue what was going on.

She and Simon were curled up on his couch watching a movie - what movie she had no idea. The sounds coming from the screen was a low hum to her, stretching across the room. All the walls were morphing into different shades of colour as the scenes of the movie changed. Basically, she was paying attention to anything but the movie.

For the last hour, they had been watching alone, the house empty of Simon's mother and sister. They did this occasionally when his mum was out. Isabelle was almost certain that this was Simon's idea of a date and Izzy couldn't be bothered to disagree because honestly she enjoyed watching films with Simon even if she had no clue what was going on.

It was funny watching Simon's face as the movie progressed; Izzy could not understand how he could feel so many emotions from a film that she barely understood. For instance, she was almost certain the character on screen had just died and who the hell was that dude in the corner? She was ninety-nine per cent sure that the girl on the the left was dating the dark haired boy but apparently she was his _sister_. How do you mess that up?

The past seven movies (or maybe eight - she couldn't remember) the same confused questions about what was going on dominated her head and she had given up trying to ask Simon about them around the second movie that they had watched.

Simon gasped suddenly. Turning her head to the screen, she saw that some guy had just died. Why was Simon so sad? Izzy couldn't even remember the last time she saw that man on screen. Seriously, what was the point of this movie?

Yawning, Izzy stretched and curled into Simon, resting her head on his lap. She could feel his hand fiddling with a lock of her hair but when she looked up at him his eyes were glued to the screen as if he didn't know that she was there.

She found it cute how he could get so attached to a video game or fictional character.

Again she yawned, closing her eyes. There was really no point in watching a movie that she didn't understand.

It felt like only a few minutes later when Simon began to shake her. "Izzy," he whispered.

"What?" she groaned. "Just carry on watching the movie. I want to sleep."

"But you've been sleeping for the last hour the movie's done."

"What?" This time she was confused and not tired. She sat up, looking at the clock. 10:35.

So maybe she had been sleeping for an hour.

"Was the movie really that boring?" Simon asked, getting up the stretch.

"Uh yeah. Does it look as if I care about Iron Man and the rest of the DC world?" She looked up at the clock before turning around to Simon.

He was looking at her theatrically: mouth wide open, eyes wide.

"What did you just say?" he asked slowly.

"Um, that I don't like Iron man and his DC friends?" Is that what made him so angry? Because she'd always displayed her dislike for any of the films he watched.

"Isabelle Lightwood, you did not just say that."

"Say what?" Now she was well and truly confused.

"I can't believe it. How could you mix up Marvel and DC?" There were two of them?

"How?" continued Simon. "How could you? And you being my... friend as -"

"Hey wait a minute," she said, holding up a hand. "Since when was I your friend?"

"What, you mean you don't like me?" Simon looked nothing like he had a few seconds ago. He looked small and hurt.

"Of course not. Isn't it obvious that I'm your girlfriend?" she said, exasperated.

Simon's eyes widened again, his mouth parted slightly.

"Oh you cannot be serious. Did you really think I wasn't your girlfriend?" She stepped closer to him so that they were face to face.

"Well you never said..." he replied.

"You're such an idiot," she murmured, placing her hand on the back of his neck. "I thought it was obvious that we're dating. I mean I haven't gone out with anyone for months."

"Yeah but -" Simon had that confused expression on again that only looked adorable on him.

"I thought -" Isabelle broke his words off with a kiss.

X_X_X_X_X_X_X_X_X_X_X_X_X_X_X_X_X_

At night, Central Park was a beautiful place.

Although they hadn't been walking for too long, the sounds of the cars were muffled by the trees around them. Lined with streetlights that reached Jace's head, the path that they were on meandered through the trees, covered by night's cloak. The glossy leaves above them were like small mirrors, capturing tiny droplets of light from the lamps.

Clary turned a corner and they arrived at the place from the painting, from both of them. The one that she had drawn and the one that his grandma had painted.

The one that his father had mentioned.

"Here we are," said Clary, sweeping her hand through the air.

Even though he had never been to this place before, it was special. So special. It was the last entry in the diary after all.

Clary had dropped to the ground, her legs crossed beneath her. Jace followed, leaning his back on a tree with finger-like roots that clung to the ground.

Silence settled over the small clearing, both of them listening to the sounds of the cars and the street. Although he liked the silence, Jace preferred the sound of Clary's voice more and luckily she spoke up before he had to.

"Let's play a game."

Jace hadn't been anticipating that. "What kinda game?"

"Twenty one dares except actually I can't be bothered to do the dares so we'll do truths instead and also I can't be bothered to the counting part. So we'll just give each other truths," said Clary, even more awkwardly than usual.

"So we take it turns to ask each other questions?" he asked confused.

"Yeah," she said.

"Wow, you could have just said that rather than spewing out at least a hundred unnecessary words."

Clary rolled her eyes.

"You go first then," she said.

"Okay then..." He trailed off unsure what to ask her. What did he want to know about her?

"What was your worst French test score?" It was wierd playing with her because he didn't want to ask anything too personal, they weren't _that_ close. Sure he had fun with her but he didn't know anything truly personal about her, other than what she'd said earlier on about her father.

Clary's face scrunched up as she thought, head tilted towards the sky.

"I think it was the first one that you saw, you know the one where I got two out of twenty. Anyway my turn now." She paused, looking around the clearing as of she could find a question hidden between the trees.

"Do you have any pets?"

So she was also keeping the questions pretty generic and not deeper questions about his life.

"Yeah, I've got a cat called Church."

Clary looked even more surprised than she was when he told her about how he baked.

"You have a _cat_? You're like an old lady, you bake cakes as well," she said, laughing. "Well since you gave me a nickname from a fairytale it's only fair if I give you one based on this new information you've given me."

"Oh and please tell me what it is," Jace said, sarcastically. But he was still smiling, only slightly though. It seemed impossible to be anything but happy when Clary laughed.

"You should be Little Red Riding Hood's grandma."

"That's a mouthful," said Jace. "Think of something better. Goldilocks is genius."

"You know you have a big ego when you start complimenting your own _terrible _nicknames," said Clary, leaning back on her hands.

"Lying is such a waste of time, Clary," he replied. "Anyway it's my turn to ask you a question. Have you ever gone on holiday?"

Sitting up straight, Clary answered with, "Not outside of the state. My mum's kinda paranoid about leaving the house on its own."

Jace raised his eyebrows. "Well you're about to have the best holiday ever seeing as I'm the one you're gonna spend it with."

"If it's gonna be anything like the past week, I strongly disagree," muttered Clary.

Jace laughed. "Don't even lie. I know you had fun going out."

"Okay my turn to ask you a question," she said, ignoring his remark.

There was a long silence in which Clary tapped her finger against her chin. Jace closed his eyes, waiting for her to ask him a question.

What she said however, surprised him. A lot.

"What's your biggest insecurity?"

He froze. He knew his answer, of course he knew his answer, but he didn't want to say. He knew he could lie, but Clary didn't deserve that. After all, she told him about her parents. But that didn't make it any easier to tell her.

Jace Montclaire was nervous once again.

Looking around the clearing, he tried to find something else to say, but he couldn't think of anything. Clary spoke up though, "I get it. You haven't got any insecurities. I guess you ask me a question."

Even through his panic, he was thankful that Clary had registered his distress and neatly avoided it. However, he still felt obliged to tell Clary. She deserved to know.

"No that's okay," he said. He knew Clary had heard but she didn't look at him as if she was letting him know that he could take back his words and they could pretend that he'd never said them. But he didn't want to do that.

He took a deep breath.

"My biggest insecurity is people finding out about my parents and how they'll think of me," he said, finally.

Clary was now looking at him, nodding her head slightly. He gave her a smile. It wasn't her fault that he'd now made their conversation awkward.

"Okay my turn," he said, pretending nothing had happened. What happened was in the past and it was easy to forget now that he'd told her. It was only hard to say it.

"Wait before you ask me one. I've got a question for you," said Clary.

For the second time that evening, Jace froze again. She was going to ask about his parents. He knew it.

"Why's your cat called Church?"

He almost laughed in relief. For those painful few seconds he had honestly thought that Clary would ask him about his parents.

This question he could answer. The other one however would be a bit more difficult.

"I don't actually know. I'm not the one who named him, one of my dad's friends gave him to us when I was younger," he replied.

"Oh. I thought it'd be better than that," said Clary, sighing.

"And how exactly could it be better than that?" he asked, amused.

"I don't know. I thought maybe you'd have sime cool story about rescuing it from a haunted church or something."

"You watch way too many movies," said Jace. "Church is boring, let me tell you that. He just sits around all day and _glares_ at me."

"I totally understand the cat though. I'd glare at you if I had to spend my entire day with you," said Clary.

"I think that's the first time a girl, or anyone really, has ever said that to me."

X_X_X_X_X_X_X_X_X_X_X_X_X_X_X_X_X_

"Call me tomorrow before you get on the plane," said Isabelle. They were standing in the dim hallway of Simon's house and has been there for the past ten minutes. She just couldn't make herself leave while knowing that this was the last time she was going to spend with Simon in ten days.

Sure that wasn't a long time, she could go without seeing Simon for longer, but she knew that when she went to school tomorrow she'd be spending her time without both him and Clary.

She almost wished she'd signed up for the exchange.

"I've already said I would Iz. Twelve times actually," Simon said, hugging her.

"Fine," she said, sighing. "I better go home anyways, who knows what Max is doing."

Simon's face scrunched up again in a way that made Izzy want to stay for another ten minutes.

"What would Max be doing anyway, where's your mum?" he asked.

"She's at work, but Alec's at home, supposedly. I'm betting he's probably snuck out to meet his new friend," she muttered, pulling on her boots.

"Oh wait that reminds me," said Simon. "I have something for Alec."

He gave no explanation and instead bounded up the stairs. Izzy looked at his retreating back confused. Since when were Alec and Simon good friends? The only time they spent together was when Isabelle was with them.

As she shrugged on her jacket, Simon came running down the stairs again with a cage in one hand and bag in the other.

"It's my cat, Yossarian. Alec said he'd look after it while I'm gone," he replied in answer to her raised eyebrow.

Since when did Alec like cats?

"Okay..." she said, taking the cage and bag which, when she looked inside it, contained food, toys and a bunch of other things that Yossarian would need.

"Right come on then," she said to the cat, when she lifted the cage up to see it.

All she could see was a pair of yellow eyes looking at her from a pile of white fluff.

"Bye," said Simon, kissing her on the cheek.

"Bye," she said, as she walked down the driveway. "And remember to call me!"

She saw Simon's grin as she turned the corner.

X-~~-X-~~-X-~~-X-~~-X-~~-X-~~-X-~~-X

**Another 42 days without me updating.****Anyway, I remember a guest commenting like five months ago that they didn't want Calry finding out about Jace until later. And so this is later. They also said that it'd be cute if they were at a park and so they were. So I hoped you enjoyed the chapter!****Also if you wanted Clace your gonna have to wait a bit longer because I've had their kiss (it was inevitable, there's no point me lying) planned out for aggeeees and it's not yet.**** As always thank you.**


	13. Across the Atlantic

When Clary woke up, for a few tiny milliseconds, it was a normal school day. Then she remembered what today truly was.

Slowly, she pulled back the covers and slipped out of her bed looking at her mostly-full suitcase. There were still a few things that she hadn't packed yet such as toothpaste or her brush. Or more important things like her coat or a pair of jeans. Clary was regretting her decisions from last night, especially when she caught sight of the time, it was nearing midday.

After showering and brushing her teeth in the short time of five minutes, she dashed back into her room to pull on some clean, ironed clothes and hurriedly brushed her hair while she looked around the room for a pair of socks to wear. She swore she had some in her drawer...

However, they weren't there and she instead found a pair of (thankfully clean) socks under her bed. Next she needed to find her jeans, she didn't bother ironing them after all they'd just get creased in the suitcase. They were folded terribly but she didn't care and she just stuffed them into her suitcase.

Now where had she put her coat? Jocelyn had insisted on taking one with her saying that she should be prepared for any weather but Clary was debating whether to leave it behind because, when she found it, she didn't think that it'd fit in her suitcase. Sighing, she tried stuffing it in.

"Why the hell are you taking a coat?"

She jumped and looked around to see Jace in the doorway, hair messy, clothes rumpled.

"Because Mum said to," she replied, continuing her struggle in trying to fit it in.

"Trust me, you're not gonna need one," he said, coming into the room to take it out.

"What if it rains?"

Jace rolled his eyes. "It's not going to rain."

"Fine," she said. "Well at least now I have space to put more stuff in it."

"You know we have to be at school in an hour, you may want to hurry up," said Jace, standing up to stretch.

"Yeah, yeah. An hour's enough time."

Clary got up too, stuffing the bag containing all her toiletries into a pocket in the suitcase. Jace had resumed his place in the doorway, following her movements with his eyes.

"Haven't you got anything better to do?" snapped Clary, annoyed because she couldn't remember if she'd packed a towel and was now digging through her suitcase looking for it.

"Actually, I do. But I thought it'd be nice if you could spend time in my company, I wouldn't want you to deprive you of this." He gestured at his body.

"How thoughtful of you," remarked Clary. She'd suddenly seen her towel on the back of her chair and she lunged for it, folding it up quickly.

"Clary I knew you were bad at French but I didn't know you were bad at folding clothes as well," said Jace, detaching himself from the wood he was leaning against. "How can you mess up folding a _towel? _"

"I didn't realise that it was insult Clary time," she muttered as he snatched the towel from the open suitcase.

"It's _always_ insult Clary time," said Jace, folding the towel again so that it didn't look like a squashed, purple sandwich.

"Why can't it be insult Jace time for once?"

"Because," he said, passing her the neatly folded towel, "there's nothing to insult about me. I'm perfect."

"Right," she muttered, placing the towel into the suitcase.

"See even you agree." When Clary looked up again, she saw that Jace had, yet again, retreated to the doorway.

"That's not what I meant," she said, as he left the room and went into the hallway.

X~X~X

Clary had never been in an airport or on a plane before so, naturally, she was looking around the huge room (Clary was doubtful whether it could be called a room) that was the inside of the airport with wide eyes.

They had gone through security with little to no problems and they were now in a place that resembled a mall except for the fact that most of the shoppers had some sort of luggage with them. She couldn't stop looking around at everything, excitement building up inside her.

It seemed so much more real that she was about to go to England when she was actually _in the airport_.

Mr Starkweather had coordinated the entire trip and was chaperoning the students. Well he was supposed to be doing that, but instead he was looking around helplessly as all the children split up and went their own way.

The British exchange students's chaperone was sitting on a bench, sunglasses pushed up in his white hair as he read a newspaper, indifferent to the fact that there were now around eighty teenagers loose in an airport.

"C'mon," Jace said, tugging at her hand. "Let's get something to eat."

Clary looked back at the seat where she'd been sitting. Simon was talking to Jordan and so she decided to leave her suitcase with him. She had no intention of hauling it around with her all day.

"First off, you're gonna want to buy a drink for the flight," said Jace, leading her past a toddler who'd decided to take up residence on the ground.

"Have you been here before?" she asked. He seemed to know where he was going. But then again Jace looked confident anywhere he went.

"When I was younger, yeah," he replied. "But not recently."

They headed over to a small shop and bought two bottles of water.

"Now what?" asked Clary, she couldn't take the smile off her face. In just over two hours she'd be on a plane. Of course that thought excited her.

"What's up with you? You look even more happy than you looked when you got your French test back," said Jace, shooting her an amused smile.

"Well of course I am. I'm going on holiday," she said, as if it were common fact.

"Technically, you're still going to school. But then again, I guess it cancels out because you get to spend the entire day with me."

Clary didn't even bother scoffing or making a reply.

"So are we getting food now?" she asked.

"I suppose. I mean neither of us has had lunch yet."

That was true. Between the excitement and the panic of packing last minute neither had managed to get lunch. Besides they'd left the house hours ago and this was the first opportunity to actually _get _any.

"Let's go over there," said Jace, nodding his head in the direction of a fast food restaurant.

But getting to 'over there' wasn't as easy as it sounded. Between the restaurant and themselves, were dozens of people, trying to get to the right gate as their flight had been called.

Jace gripped Clary's wrist dragging her into the crowd of confused people, luggage and crying children. A few seconds in, and Clary was stopped by yet another kid who'd decided that the floor was a great place to sit. Jace's hand on her wrist slipped as she stopped. It slipped down her wrist onto her hand.

Suddenly, their fingers were laced together, tightly twisted around each others. Clary probably would have frozen for a while longer (she was holding Jace's _hand)_ but the mother of the child on the floor was glaring at Clary for having almost stepped on him.

Apologising profusely, Clary slipped past the kid and his angry parent to where Jace stood. He was looking at her as of he didn't notice that their hands were linked together, their palms now pressed tightly against each other. Had he lost all feeling in his hand?

Clary couldn't imagine how that would feel seeing as it appeared that her own hand had at least doubled the amount of nerves that it had.

"What did that kid ever do to you, Clary? It looked as if you were going to run through him. Who knew sweet, little Clary could be so vicious when trying to get through a crowd?" teased Jace.

His hand was _still_ in hers. Was she imagining it but was he holding tighter? Why was this both awkward and comforting?

"What do you mean little?" replied Clary, glaring at him, as they continued walking to the restaurant.

"Little, meaning small or tiny."

"I know what that means," said Clary, rolling her eyes. "And I'm not _vicious_."

"Sure you aren't. That kid was crying when you left him," he said, laughing. They were now at the restaurant and waiting in line.

"No he wasn't. I _nearly _stepped on his hand, I didn't actually do it. I just didn't want to lose you." As soon as Clary said those words, she regretted them.

"Well nobody really does Clary, I'm the best thing that ever happened in everybody's lives," he replied.

"Oh really, I just meant that I didn't want to lose my ticket to England."

Why was he still holding her hand?

Why was _she_ still holding _his_ hand?

"Is that all I am? A ticket to England?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

"What? Of course not. You're also my ticket to free food and a free room there as well," she said, smiling innocently.

He shook his head, smiling and was about to reply when the lady behind the desk called, "Next!" They stepped forward and ordered their meals while the lady wrote everything down and hurried away to give the order.

It was only then, that Jace let go of her hand, sliding it gently out of her grasp so that he could reach into his pocket for money. Clary did the same, looking through her purse to find the right amount of money. American dollars and _not_ British pounds, which her mother had given to her that morning.

As she was about to close her bag, she saw Jace's hand stop hers. "I'll pay for it."

"What?" she asked, confused. She was perfectly capable of buying her own food.

"I said I'll pay for it. I need to get rid of these dollars, they're not gonna be any use to me in England. In case you haven't noticed Clary both countries have different currencies."

"Okay," she said, putting her money back into her bag.

Around an hour later, the gate opened and, after an extremely long walk, they arrived at a smaller room where they had to have their passports checked yet again and were now waiting in line to board the plane. There was a huge floor to ceiling window on one wall, revealing the runway and planes lined next to each other in the distance.

Once again, the childlike excitement was filling Clary's body. In her hand she had her boarding pass, ready for the flight attendant to rip as they passed through the doorway and into the glass corridor behind her.

The only person now in the line in front of her was Jace, who's ticket was being ripped. Then Clary was next and finally she was past the smiling lady.

She was about to board the plane.

Through the glass, she could see it in front of them. "Hurry up," said Jace, "you can stare out the windows when you're at your seat."

His words brought her back to the present, and she tugged her suitcase and followed Jace quickly. She could now *see* the door to the plane, at the end of the corridor.

Yet again, they were caught in a queue and Clary could see Hodge desperately trying to count everyone.

"Hey Clary, guess what," said Simon from beside her, a large grin upon his face.

"What?" she asked. What could possibly make Simon this happy?

"No, guess."

"Fine," she sighed. "You've finally gotten Izzy to like Star Wars."

"I wish. But some things never change. Carry on guessing."

Clary groaned. "You've finally gotten Izzy to not _hate_ Star Wars."

"Should I just tell you?"

"Please. I'm dying in anticipation," she said sarcastically.

Simon's grin, suddenly stretched even larger. Clary had to admit, seeing her best friend this happy made her smile as well.

"Me and Izzy are dating."

Wow. She'd been expecting something better. "Is that all?"

"Yeah," he said, with his confused expression on his face.

"Oh come on Simon, it was bound to happen sooner or later. So this is it, your first serious relationship." She slung her arm over his shoulder, but it ended up looking stupid because of the height difference. "You're all grown up now, aren't you?"

"I can't say the same thing for you," said Simon, ducking away from Clary's arm. "You're still a midget."

Clary was about to retort but the line moved forward again and they had reached the entrance of the plane. Here, the sound of the engine was loud. Around them, the glass had disappeared leaving them surrounded by a black material and Clary could see light escaping from the small gap between the corridor and the plane.

Clary had a sudden and irrational thought about her foot slipping in the hole and getting stuck there. Or worse, somehow her passport had freed itself from her bag and fell through it. But her thoughts had to be stopped when the flight attendant, wearing a neat blouse and skirt, said, "Hi, welcome aboard!"

Clary smiled back hesitantly as she stepped over the small gap and into the plane. She was in a small hallway and their was only one door on the right that was open. So, upon seeing Jace disappear through it, she followed him.

Clearly, they were in the business class section, the seats here similar to armchairs. But Clary couldn't look around for too long because they went through that section of the plane and arrived in economy.

Suddenly Clary felt claustrophobic. It wasn't that she was scared of small places, but the thought of staying in that small cabin for the next eight hours made her want to run straight out of the plane.

There were so many people.

"This is our row," said Jace, stopping at a row of three chairs. He picked up his suitcase and slid it into the compartment above them. Then he held out his hand for Clary's.

"Come on, we both know you're not going to able to reach that."

Reluctantly, she handed over her suitcase and he slid it in gracefully, as if it weighed ten times less than it actually did. And then, just as gracefully, he slid into the row and sat at the seat right at the end, by the window.

Hesitantly, Clary did the same, Simon following her afterwards.

Now it truly was the beginning of her trip.

X~X~X

"And they lived happily ever after. The end."

Izzy let out a huge sigh. That was the last time she was ever going to read Hansel and Gretel to Max. Or just to anyone.

Why couldn't Max go to sleep quicker? She recalled the past hour in which she'd tried to get Max into bed. He'd refused, obviously, and so she'd promised to read to him before bed. _That_ had made him listen. But three stories in and Max was still awake, looking at her with his wide, grey eyes.

Now however, a further two stories later, his breathing had evened out and he was lying on his pillow, still. Thank God.

Glancing at the clock, she saw that it was eleven o'clock. How Max could even stay up that late baffled Isabelle.

Carefully, she put the book on his nightstand and slid out of the bed. She was nearly at the door when she heard Max. "Where are you going?"

Izzy glared at the door before turning around. "You were asleep, Max!"

"No I wasn't," he said, sitting up. "I've been awake all this time. Can you read me another one?"

"No I've read you five. I'm going to bed." She was about to turn around again but then she caught sight of Max's expression.

He was looking down at his duvet with a downcast expression, his hands curled in to hold it. He looked small and Izzy was reminded of how young Max was. He was only eight.

"Okay," he said, "bye."

Sighing, she crossed the room again and slid under the covers of his bed. "Fine, I'll read you _one_ more story."

Immediately, Max perked up, a smile stretched upon his face. He threw his arms around Izzy's waist. "Thank you," he said, his voice muffled by Izzy's shirt.

Izzy smiled slightly, how could she not when Max was looking so adorable?

A couple minutes in and Isabelle was, once again, not smiling.

Instead of trying to sleep Max was peering over her shoulder trying to look at all the words.

"Max there's not even any pictures. Just lie down!" she said, annoyed.

"But I like seeing the words as you read them," he replied, lying down heavily on the pillow.

"So why don't _you_ just read it then?"

"Because I like it when you read," he replied, simply.

Sighing, Isabelle went back to reading the book. Luckily, she only had to read one more story before Max was fast asleep.

X~X~X

Why did the inside of a plane have to be so loud? She couldn't wait to be on the ground again, far away from the loud engines.

Although it was night, and most people on the plane were asleep, Clary just couldn't. Combined with the sound and the uncomfortable position that she was in (not to mention that she had nowhere to rest her head) sleep was unattainable.

Beside her, Simon had his elbow on the armrest, his hand holding his head. He had a comic book open on the small table in front of them, his glasses about to fall off the end of his nose. Carefully, Clary took them off his nose and placed them on the table.

Sighing, she repositioned herself in the seat again. She was both bored and tired. She couldn't read or draw because all of the lights in the cabin, except the ones gently illuminating the pathway, were out she'd tried balancing her phone's flashlight on the table so that she could read but that didn't go so well. The light filled almost all of the cabin and Clary didn't want to wake anyone up.

Jace was also fast asleep, his head leaning against the side of the plane, beside the window. Through it, Clary could see a single black sheet. No lights, no anything. Which wasn't that surprising seeing as they were flying over an ocean currently.

She remembered when they first took off and Clary had jolted back in her seat slightly because it was so fast and then when they were up in the air her ears had started to pop and the sight outside had been amazing, the clouds looking like whipped cream. She'd been enjoying the trip then but now she was just tired.

Again, she shifted her body but this time she accidentally whacked Jace's leg. Quickly, she turned around to see if he'd woken up. He had, unfortunately.

"What?" he asked, his voice thick with sleep.

"Oh sorry, that was an accident. I was just trying to get to sleep," she said. His eyes were open the tiniest bit and Clary had the feeling that when the morning came he wouldn't remember anything.

"Lie down on my shoulder," he said, gesturing to it.

Hesitantly, Clary placed her head upon his shoulder. She kept telling herself that it was okay if she leaned against him, after all she did that with Izzy and Simon all the time. But somehow, it felt a lot different with Jace, she felt a lot more nervous.

But even so it felt kind of nice like that.

Just as she was about to fall asleep, he rested his head atop of hers.

X~X~X

So looking back on everyone's reviews I noticed that a lot of people had asked questions. I'd always assumed they were rhetorical until then, so I decided to answer them all starting from the oldest. If they were rhetorical, just forget any of this ever happened.

Jling: Well I guess she will and we know his secrets mostly - his parents. But I'm planning to elaborate more when they get to England.

msgoldeneyes: Yeah, you guessed. Next time I write a fanfic I'll make it a little less obvious. But seriously, how did you guess so quickly?

LilyRay321: Of course Jace is a Herondale. I hate it when he's from anything but that amazing family line terrified of ducks.

SkyBell1272: So you didn't exactly ask a question but this is about your first review. I actually was going to get Clary to ask Jace questions when he was drunk but then I feel like Jace would just blurt everything out and Clary would get guilty. So instead I left it and she wouldn't have to hide that she'd found everything out about him.

SkyBell1272: Soon. You'll find out what Jace has been doing (though a bunch of people have already guessed) very soon.

Jling: Well to answer the "who" bit, look back at the previous chapter (particularly the latter part of the chapter) and as to why he's being secretive, it's also in the previous chapter. I would answer properly, but I don't want to spoil.

fifespice: I actually hadn't thought about that. I'd completely forgotten to add that in a scene. Thanks for reminding me.

OliviaWhite55 : Yes? She will meet his parents, eventually, but it'll probably be a tad different from what she was expecting. But she will, at least once, meet his parents in the duration of this fanfic.

So thank you for reading!


	14. 10 Days Left

The airport was silent compared to the plane.

Although it was early in the morning (and even earlier in New York) Clary was wide awake, though her body felt exhausted.

Right now, they were were sitting in a coach on the way to Jace's school where his parents were going to pick them up and take them home. But Clary could not stop staring out of the window.

It was not exactly what she had been expecting. The sky was a clear, clear blue, and it looked as if the past few days had been boiling: the grass at the side of the roads had turned to the colour of ripe wheat. Small flowers weaved in and out of the tall grass, bringing splashes of colour.

Jace was also looking out the window, a small smile on his face. For once he looked relaxed and not full of energy.

"I thought we were supposed to be near London," said Clary.

"We _are_ near London, it's like an hour drive from here," replied Jace, his eyes snapping to her.

"But I hadn't expected... this."

"What? Did you think it rained all the time?"

Clary grinned sheepishly.

"Maybe."

"I bet you're glad you didn't bring that coat now. Hey, look we're here."

Outside the window was the tall gate of a highschool and once they were through, Clary could see a small crowd of parents waiting. Which one would be Jace's?

"Right, make sure that you leave nothing behind and clean up any mess that you'll undoubtedly have made in the past forty-five minutes," shouted someone from the front, which Clary could not see because of her height, or lack of.

She assumed that it was the British exchange students's chaperone because Clary could not recall the last time Mr Starkwheather had raised his voice. After a lot of scrambling around to find her headphones, which had somehow slipped out of her pocket, Clary was finally outside of the cramped coach, the crisp morning air pressing against her skin.

They had to then stand beside it, waiting for their suitcases to be pulled out fron where they were stored under the coach. Finally Clary's one was rolled out and she followed Jace as he led her through the crowd to his parents.

She didn't know what she was expecting, but she hadn't been expecting what she saw. In front of them stood a lady wearing a charcoal grey suit. She looked about sixty with deep frown lines near her mouth and blonde hair scraped back into a tight bun.

But whereas Jace's hair was a bright gold, hers was pale and colourless like paint that had faded away in the sun.

"So this is the girl then, Jonathan?" she said, looking at Clary. She wasn't exactly looking at Clary with a disapproving face but it most certainly wasn't the most welcoming.

"Nice to meet you too," said Jace.

The lady pursed her lips. Clary wasn't sure what to do so she said, "Nice to meet you Ms Montclaire."

The lady's eyes hardened slightly.

Clary wasn't sure what to call her, was she married or not? Her mind couldn't help wandering back to the night she spent with Jace in Central Park. What about his mum made him insecure about people finding out?

"Right, come along then," the lady said, turning around and leading them through the parking lot and to a white car. Jace opened the boot and they placed their suitcases in it before sliding into the seats.

The ride to Jace's house was spent in silence which was fine by Clary because she was too busy taking everything in, from the small parks to the city centre, and the relatively low buildings that didn't exceed five stories often.

It was also _very_ quiet. Although it was early in the morning, there were barely any people or cars around so they arrived at Jace's house rather quickly.

"Home sweet home," muttered Jace as they pulled into the driveway.

Clary opened her door and stepped out carefully. In front of her was a detached two storey house with a few flower pots by the front door.

"Here," said Jace, passing her her suitcase.

"Thanks," she said.

Ms Montclaire was holding open the door, ushering them inside.

"Now come on, be quiet," she said, once they were both inside and the door was shut behind them.

"Jonathan, go show Clary her room, I'm going to make breakfast."

She disappeared down the hallway.

"You can put your shoes here," said Jace, gesturing to the shoe rack beside him.

"Okay," whispered Clary, remembering what Ms Montclaire had said about being quiet, which made Clary wonder, why did they have to be quiet?

She followed Jace up the stairs and into a room on the left. It was mostly empty, consisting of a wardrobe and a bed with its sheets made up perfectly.

"If you need anything I'm down the hall," said Jace, closing the door quietly behind him.

Unsure of what to do with herself, Clary tiptoed over to the window. It was looking out onto a fairly large garden with plants spilling out from the borders and small trees scattered about.

Clary sighed, rubbing her eyes. What was she supposed to do? It was a Saturday and so she didn't have to go to school.

She ended up lying down in bed, planning to close her eyes for a bit before she was called down for breakfast, though she'd already had some on the plane.

As she closed her eyes, her limbs began to feel heavy and soon she was fast asleep.

* * *

When she awoke, the sun was starting to set. The room was filled with a weak light and she could see the sky streaked with pink clouds. She got up slowly, stretching.

As she fixed her hair and got changed out of her clothes, her stomach rumbled, reminding her of how _hungry_ she was. She headed over to the door and stepped into the hallway outside. It was quiet.

Jace had said to go to his room if she needed anything but their were three doors to choose from and Clary didn't want to walk in on anyone else's room. Something about Jace's mum unsettled her. It was almost definitely the sharp glare she wore.

So instead she made her way downstairs. There was a faint light from the end of the hallway and she followed it until she needed up in a bright kitchen.

The surfaces of the kitchen were all wooden: nice wooden tops and white-painted wooden doors for all the cabinets. Upon the windowsill a few vases and jars stood containing flowers that were obviously from the garden outside and not from a florist.

Jace was sitting at a wooden table a plate of pasta in front of him. "So our resident Sleeping Beauty wakes up all by herself without a kiss, huh?"

"I'm a modern princess. I don't need a knight in shining armour," she said, slipping into the chair opposite him.

"Do you want some?" he asked, gesturing to the pasta.

She nodded. "I'm starving."

"Sorry we didn't wake you up for breakfast, my grandma said to let you rest," said Jace, as he poured her a plate of pasta from a pot on the stove.

"You're grandma? How many people actually live in this house?" asked Clary.

"Well, there's my mum," he said, putting the plate down in front of her, "me and my grandma's visiting. Oh and also Church."

Clary swallowed a bite of the pasta. It was _g__ood_. Really good. But maybe that was just because she hadn't eaten much today.

"That's your cat, right?"

"Yeah. Speak of the devil..." Clary turned around, following Jace's gaze, and saw a blue Persian cat slink in, its tail held up as if it didn't want to get it dirty.

Jace went over to it and stroked it in between its ears. "Hey Church, you missed me?"

The cat ducked beneath his arm and went over to his bowl of food.

"Clearly not," replied Clary.

"No appreciation. It's like he's only here for the food."

"Probably is."

Jace sauntered over to the fridge, rummaging through it. Clary could hear the sound of glass clinking.

"What do you want, apple juice, or orange?"

"Orange."

"Good, because their was only enough apple for one of us, and I sure as hell wasn't going to give it to you," said Jace, kicking the door shut with his foot because his hands were holding the two bottles. He stopped when he caught sight of Clary's plate.

"Jesus, it's only been two minutes and you've already finished that," said Jace, startled.

"I'm hungry," she said defensively, wrapping her arms around her stomach.

"Seriously, how does a mouth that small eat so quickly?"

"It's this thing called hunger, Jace, makes you do all sorts of crazy stuff," retorted Clary, sarcastically.

"Speaking of crazy stuff... Wanna go out with me tonight?"

If Clary had still been eating her pasta she was sure she would've choked on it.

"What?" she asked, eyes wide.

"Not like _that_, well not unless you want to, but I was thinking more along the lines of a trip with a little bit of breaking and entering, a chance of broken limbs and or the possibility of running away from an angry dog."

"And how do you know I don't like my dates like that?" questioned Clary.

"Oh please," said Jace, waving a dismissive hand, "you're more a movie and dinner kind of girl."

"Well I disagree," said Clary stubbornly. "Anyway, when are we going?"

"Midnight."

**

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**Hello. I wanted to do my Author's in the middle because I've never seen one in the middle and it shouldn't be confined to only the end or beginning and should have a chance in the middle. (I feel like Margo in Paper Towns with her random capitalisation). Anyways... Thank you to everyone for following, reviewing, or reading, or whatever else.**

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**

Alec wiped a weary hand over his eyes. "Fine, one round of hide-and-seek."

Max cheered, flinging his comic onto the coffee table beside him. He would try anything to prolong himself going to bed. This time it hadn't been Izzy who had been burdened with the task because, as soon as she'd eaten dinner, she'd locked herself up in her room saying she had to call Simon and that Alec should get off his lazy butt and look after Max for once.

Except Izzy had used a lot more rude words that Max knew that if he ever repeated them in front of his parents, he'd be grounded for a week. Or month.

"One, two -" began Alec.

"No, that's not fair!" shouted Max. "You've got to count in your bedroom and it's got to be for two minutes!"

"One minute," said Alec, firmly in his 'strict parent voice'. Sometimes Alec filled the role of his dad better than his biological one did.

"Fine," he agreed, reluctantly.

Once he heard Alec's bedroom door slam shut, Max did a slow spin, trying to think of a good hiding spot. There was that cupboard in his parent's room... But then again that was probably exactly where Alec was expecting him to go to.

He could've hidden in one of the more empty kitchen cabinets, he fit inside those just perfect. However, the idea of hiding in a small cramped dark space terrified him.

As quietly as he could, he ran out of the living room, knowing that he was losing time, and into the guest bedroom next door. They didn't have many guests as his uncle Maxwell (whom he'd been named after) didn't live nearby and they didn't talk much to his dad's family.

Then he saw the perfect hiding place.

Max quickly dashed past the bed and heaved himself onto the windowsill, slipping past the curtain so that it obscured him. Awkwardly, he pressed himself to the window so that none of his body touched the curtain. He was half crouching, his torso twisted so that his back was flat against the glass.

"Ready or not here I come!" shouted Alec, sounding as if he'd rather spend his time eating Izzy's cooking, which was saying something.

Holding his breath, Max waited for the sound of Alec's footsteps on the stairs, coming in his direction. However, he instead heard Alec's footsteps above him followed by the sound of a number of heavy objects going _thump_. With bated breath, Max heard the footsteps coming closer to the stairs, but they then veered off into the direction of Isabelle's room.

"Oi Izzy," he heard Alec call, "is Max in there?"

"Why the hell would he be in here? Now go, I'm busy!"

Alec stomped around for a bit more and Max heard him going into their parent's room, which was empty of them, like had often been recently.

"Max! I give up, okay? You win!"

Max couldn't help himself, he gave a small giggle. He still wasn't going to step out of his hiding place soon though. If Alec wanted to send him to bed, he'd have to find him first.

The sound of Isabelle's bedroom door opening followed by the heavy sound of her feet on the stairs reached his ears.

"Max is never going to listen to that, Alec. The only way he's going to bed is if you find him," said Izzy's voice.

Heavy footfall on the stairs was heard once again and this time Max assumed it was Alec.

"I thought you were busy talking to your boyfriend," said Alec, accusingly.

Their voices were close now, just outside the guest room. Max sucked in his stomach as much as he could, just to make sure that none of him was touching the curtain.

"Yeah, well Simon's going to bed now, he's in England."

The sounds of their footsteps disappeared into the kitchen.

"By the way," said Izzy again, "why did you agree to looking after Simon's cat. Unless you have some secret friendship with him, you barely know Simon."

"I like cats," said Alec defensively.

Max heard the sound of the freezer slam shut. Maybe Izzy was getting ice cream. He could do with an ice cream right about now.

"So that thing that gave you scratches all over your body wasn't a cat?" Max could almost see the triumphant look on Isabelle's face.

"No, it wasn't."

"And so what was it, Alec? Something you want to tell us?"

Max didn't understand what about Izzy's comment was making Alec so nervous, but he could hear the nervousness in his voice.

"Okay, maybe it was a cat. I like cats, they don't like me."

"That is the biggest pile of crap I've ever heard and you know it, Alec Lightwood."

Once again, the footsteps went near the guest room.

"Are you going to help me find Max or what?" asked Alec, indignantly.

"Okay, but you're going about it all wrong. You've got to make him laugh, you're never going to find him otherwise."

Max heard Alec grumble something.

"Hey Max, remember the time Alec found that spider in his bed, and he screamed the house down? And remember when Mrs Herondale came knocking on the door asking about who was dying," shouted Izzy.

"That wasn't funny."

"Sure it was. You should've seen Max that day, he choked on his dinner. But then I suppose you wouldn't have heard it seeing as you were a little occupied."

Max had to admit, that had been a funny day, but it wasn't enough to make him laugh.

"Or remember the time Alec swang too hard on the swing and then the rope snapped."

"That was painful."

Max tried to think of something else and not what Isabelle had just said, because the look on Alec's face when he was on the ground had been hilarious. A laugh was starting to rise in his throat.

"Or remember the time when Alec hadn't cut his hair in months and it looked like a five-year-old mop."

He couldn't help it; he let out a giggle. Immediately, the realisation hit him and he clamped his mouth shut.

"See I told you!" said Izzy gleefully. "He's in the guest room!"

She bounded into the room and, through the small crack between both of the curtains he could see her kneeling by the bed, looking under it. Alec had headed over to the empty wardrobe.

"He's not in here," he said.

"Or under here..." said Izzy. "So the only place he could be is..."

He should've chosen a room with more hiding spots.

The curtains were ripped apart and Izzy's grinning face appeared, Alec's bewildered one looking at him over her shoulder.

"Found you!" she sang, picking him up off the windowsill and placing him on the floor.

"That's not fair, only Alec was supposed to be playing," protested Max.

"You got found, end of. Now c'mon it's bed-time," said Alec, taking Max's hand, probably in case he tried to escape.

"Can't we play another round?" pleaded Max.

"No," he said firmly, swinging him into his arms because Max refused to move. "God, you're getting heavy," he muttered.

"Izzy," said Max, pleading again.

"Goodnight," she said, waving her hand at him as Alec carried him through the door.

* * *

In the distance, the rumble of cars and the wind (which Clary wished was closer and on her skin) made up the sounds of the night. The streetlights had gone out (Jace had explained that they went off in the late evening and early morning for a few hours to save electricity) and so they only had the faint light of the moon. It was enough, though, to illuminate the old brick wall in front of them, covered in moss. Time and the weather had worn the brick and now it was a dark brown, crumbling at the edges. However, it was thick and seemed pretty sturdy to Clary.

"Is this the part where we have a chance of getting broken limbs," she asked, raising her eyebrows and gesturing to the low wall. It was _much_ shorter than the one near the Hotel Dumort.

"Well yeah, this could be fatal for someone with legs as short as yours," replied Jace, using a brick that jutted out to help climb.

"I'll show you short. When I'm done with your legs it'll bring a whole new meaning to the word 'short'," said Clary, annoyed yet again at his mockery of her lack of height.

"Why are short people always so angry?" He was now sitting on the wall, looking down at her.

"Well you'd understand if you walked a mile in my shoes," she retorted, heaving herself onto the wall. She lacked all of the finesse that Jace possessed.

"I don't think they'd fit."

Clary rolled her eyes. "No kidding. You're a giant."

"I prefer to call myself an average person."

Jace took hold of her hand and pulled her up

"Now what do we do?" asked Clary, looking down at the bushes of the park, that was locked for the evening, beneath her.

"We jump." And Jace did exactly that, landing perfectly on two feet.

He made it look so easy.

She turned, and hooked her arms over the wall, waiting to fall. There were nettles below her and if she stumbled she'd be blanketed by them. Suddenly, she felt hands on her waist,that pulled her down.

"Hey!" she protested, swatting away Jace's hands. "I can jump by myself."

"I'm sure you can. But we can't have you stumbling into the nettles, can we? I'd have to listen to your endless complaining all evening," he said, picking his way through the shrubbery and onto a gravel path.

"And here I thought you actually cared about my safety," said Clary.

Jace appeared to have not heard her. He was already a few metres away and Clary jogged so that she could catch up with him. All of a sudden, he halted, flinging out his arm. "Stop," he whispered.

"Why?"

"There's a camera coming up."

Clary's eyes grew as wide as coins. Sure they'd broken into places before, but they had all been abandoned and disused.

Taking a sharp left, Jace walked straight into the dense undergrowth beside them. Clary followed, not having much of a choice. She tried not to think of what things could be lurking in all the bushes.

"You know, this is a lot less glamorous than I expected it to be," remarked Clary, spitting out a branch that had dived into her mouth when she had passed by it.

"I told you you were a movie and dinner kind of girl," said Jace, turning around to face her. He had that wild grin on his face again, the kind he had on their first trip in New York. The kind that he only wore on one of their trips.

"Yeah, but this isn't a date," she said.

Once again, Jace didn't reply, but this time she thought it was more because he was trying to get a plant out of his hair and not because he hadn't heard her.

"So what exactly is the point of this?" Clary asked. "I mean, is it just as pointless as our previous trips or more?"

"Clary Fray," said Jace dramatically, stopping and turning to face her. "I was showing you the treasures of New York City."

"I mean if a cockroach infestation is a treasure, then yeah sure," said Clary, recalling the trip to the Dumort.

Jace muttered something inaudible and turned back around, continuing on with their treck to nowhere. Clary focused on Jace's hair, which still had tiny leaves strewn throughout it. She hadn't told him, partly to annoy him but mostly because she thought that he looked cute with them in his hair. Though the latter thought caused her cheeks to start feeling hot.

"Here we are," said Jace, spreading his arms out when they had reached a small clearing.

Tall trees bordered the edges and the ground underfoot was dry and devoid of grass or any plants.

"I think I prefer Central Park."

Jace sat down in the center of the clearing, tilting his head back. Confused, Clary sat beside him. Were they just going to sit here?

Apparently, they were. Jace lay down, crossing his arms behind his head, eyes closed, looking like he wasn't going to budge any time soon.

"So is this it?" asked Clary, disappointed.

"Sometimes you need to take a moment to smell the roses," said Jace. Clary stared at him, bewildered. Sure it sounded like Jace had said those words, but Jace would never have stopped to 'smell the roses' as he put it.

"All I smell are weeds."

Jace didn't reply, and this time, Clary knew that it was just to annoy her because he had that smirk on his face again.


	15. 9 Days Left

Clary didn't know how long they had spent in the park because she hadn't brought her phone with her, mainly because she didn't want it dropping and smashing. Who knew where Jace was going to take them?

Currently, they were walking back from the park, only a few minutes away from his house. Finally, the breeze had reached the street and Clary took delight in it cooling her slightly sticky skin.

"I'm confused," she announced suddenly.

Jace stopped to look at her. He still had the tiny leaves stuck in his hair but, after lying in the ground for a while, a twig and some dirt had joined it. She still hadn't told him.

"Why?"

"So I get that we did the breaking and entering, and then there was the possibility of broken limbs, but where's the angry dog?"

"Oh _that_ dog. I said there was a possibility of one, and you only meet him if you happen to cross a certain garden and you accidentally step on its tail," replied Jace.

"I'm not going to ask."

"Good, because it was a long story," he said, and they began to walk again.

A feeling of contentment covered her, not excitement as she usually felt when she and Jace went somewhere, but just a feeling of calm happiness. However, it was broken when Jace swore suddenly.

"What?" she asked. Jace was raking his hands through his hair, bringing out all the leaves and other things that had accumulated in there.

"You knew, didn't you?"

"Knew what?" she asked, innocently.

"You knew I had all of this in my hair."

"I have no idea what you're talking about," she replied, calmly walking past him.

"Clary I've spent the past week in your company, non-stop. I can tell when you're lying," he said, catching up to her. "But I guess I kinda deserved that because I never told you that there's a plant stuck to your back."

"What do you mean?" she asked, feeling her back. She pulled off an entire plant that was stuck to the fabric's threads.

"Jace!"

But he wasn't beside her anymore and was sprinting away, his laughter echoing in the street. As fast as her short legs could, she ran after him. She only caught up to him when he was at his front door, frozen on the step.

"Jace?" she asked, wondering why he was just standing at the empty doorway, looking into the house.

His head whipped to her, then back to the house again when a voice called from inside.

"Who's that, Jace?"

"She's the exchange student, Mum, Clary."

A blonde woman appeared behind him. She had a dressing gown wrapped around her slim frame.

Mum? This wasn't the lady who'd taken them home earlier on that day. Then everything suddenly clicked. Jace had never said that the older woman was his mother, Clary had simply assumed. That must have been his _grandma_.

"Oh, _Clary_. Yes, I remember you telling me about her," she replied, in a soft voice. Her green eyes had previously been darting about, as if she were waiting for something bad to happen. However, they rested on her now, a soft look in them.

"What were you doing out there, Jace?" she asked, moving out of the doorway so that they could pass.

"We went out for a walk, I showed her around a bit and we lost track of time," said Jace, passing by his mother. Clary followed him into the dark interior of the house. If his mother was concerned that he was 'showing her around' in the early morning when most of the streets weren't lit, she didn't show it.

Celine had retreated into one of the shadows, her features looking distorted in the lack of light.

"What are _you_ doing up, Mum?" asked Jace, as if he were the adult instead of her.

"I went to get a drink, Jace. I'll be in my room if you two want anything." With that she went up the stairs, leaving no sound in her wake.

* * *

From the depths of her sleep, Clary heard her name accompanied by a shake of her shoulder. Groaning, she rolled over, so that only her front was covered by the blanket and her back not. She could feel a cool breeze sweep over her back, comforting on her hot body. This house had no air conditioning or fans (that she was aware of) and so she'd had to open her window. At first, the air outside had been still but now there was a soft breeze coming through the window.

"Clary," came the voice again. Ignoring it, she bunched up some of the blanket under her head. She had no clue where her pillow had gone and besides this was a lot more comfortable. She sighed contentedly.

"Clary." This time the voice was more insistent and wouldn't stop shaking her shoulder. Annoyed, she lifted her arm and whacked it back into something soft, hopefully whatever was calling her. A small part of her mind was telling her that this was Jace, but the majority of her body just wanted sleep.

Again, she whacked her hand into his face. "Jesus Clary, just wake up!" Suddenly, her blanket was ripped out of her grasp and she was left disorientated. She sat up and reached out her hand, looking for her blanket.

As the seconds passed, the brightness of the room that burned her eyes slowly faded so that she could open them properly. Jace was sitting on the end of her bed, holding her blanket.

"Hey," she protested, lunging forward to snatch it out of his hands. He simply moved the blanket away from her.

"Come on, get up. We're going somewhere," he said.

Clary squinted at the clock opposite her. "At five in the morning, hell no," she replied. If Jace didn't give her her blanket, she'd just sleep without it. She'd only fallen asleep around three hours ago and in her book that was at least four hours short of a proper night's sleep.

She turned over again, and pulled her pillow from where it had half fallen off the bed. As she lay her head on it, she closed her eyes.

"It's not five in the morning it's two in the afternoon."

No wonder it was rather bright, but her jetlagged mind was too tired to care.

"Big difference," muttered Clary.

"C'mon Clary. We're gonna miss the train then. If you come, I'll even get you coffee."

Clary was silent. The offer of coffee was tempting. And it was even more tempting because she now knew that she couldn't fall asleep again between Jace and her mind slowly starting to become awake. Plus Jace had said they were going on a train, and it sounded like it would take them somewhere fun.

"Fine," she muttered.

"Good," said Jace. She could feel the bed shift as he got up. "Be ready in fifteen minutes."

* * *

Even though they had been on the train for over an hour, Jace still wouldn't tell her where they were going. However, he had bought her coffee, like he had promised. She'd sipped on it silently throughout the journey, but it had run out a while back and she was left staring out of the window, the slight rumble of the train comforting.

Fields dotted with trees and animals or a lone house, occasionally broken with a small village or town, flew by. Sometimes the view from the window would be obscured by trees and plants, and all that Clary would see were brushstrokes of green.

She closed her eyes, and leaned back in her seat. She wasn't particularly tired anymore, the cofffee had cleared that up quickly, but also all the new sights and things to see woke her up just as fast.

Suddenly, Jace tugged on her arm, and she turned to face him with a questioning look upon her face.

"It's our stop, let's go," he answered. Clary hadn't even noticed that the train had stopped nor had she caught what station had been announced over the speakers. She was still in the dark on where they were.

They stepped off of the train and were hit with the hot air of the platform. Jace guided her down a set of stairs, away from the glaring sun and into an air-conditioned building.

"I think you'll like where we're going," said Jace with a small smile.

"Hmm," she said, looking around for a bin for her coffee.

"Honestly, the mere thought of spending an entire day with me should be enough to wake anyone up."

"Not this girl," said Clary, dropping her empty cup into a bin.

"Yeah, you're really different from most girls."

Clary couldn't tell what he meant by that. If any other guy had said that, it would've sounded like he was flirting with her, but Jace said it almost teasingly.

They stepped out of the station (which wasn't nearly as crowded as some of the ones she had seen in New York) and Clary was immediately hit with a strong, cold breeze. The smell of salt and fried fish reached her nose, and that's when she noticed the glimmer of water peeking out from between the two buildings in front of her.

"Wait, we're at the beach," she said. "But I didn't bring a swimming costume."

"Didn't need to. We're not going swimming, we're going to the pier."

"Hey, I've always wanted to go to a pier," said Clary, as they walked onto the street.

"Yeah, you said that a few days ago."

They stopped at the side of the street to let a car pass and then quickly crossed when it had.

"You remember that?" she asked, surprised. She herself barely remembered it.

"Clearly," he replied. They turned the corner and now Clary could fully see the sea. The sun's reflection on it looked like thin sheets of gold. In front of them a set of stairs weaved its way through the steep park that was situated on the incline between the road they were on the road by the beach.

"Race you," she said quickly, already running down the stairs.

"Oh, you're on," replied Jace, sprinting down the stairs, close behind her, racing each other for the second time that day.

Because of how steep the area was, the pavement had to twist and turn like a long snake rather than having a direct path. This made the trip downhill much longer. Still, Clary was glad it wasn't uphill.

When they finally reached the bottom, Clary had to pause to catch her breath. Down here, the breeze was strong and cold, pleasantly cooling her skin.

"I won," she said, turning to grin at him triumphantly.

"Actually, I couldn't pass you because you were in the way," said Jace. It was true, the path had been too narrow for him to pass by her without shoving her into the rails.

"You're just a sore loser," she sang.

"You're acting like a little kid," he sang back. "Come on, let's go to the pier. It closes in a few hours."

They walked along the path which was dusted here and there with sand. About eight feet below them, was the beach where there was a large number of people lounging on towels and kids playing in the shallower water. As they walked, they joked and talked, until they finally reached the pier, a huge wooden structure sitting a few metres above the water housing carnival rides and various other stalls.

"You hungry?" Jace asked.

"Starving," she replied.

"This way then." Jace led her over the wooden boards which in some places Clary could see the water beneath.

She was too busy looking around at everything, caught up in the sights and sounds and smells that she hadn't noticed that Jace had ordered them both food from a van. He handed her a small, white cardboard container which held a large portion of chips.

They sat down on a bench that overlooked the water. As she hadn't had anything that day (with the exception of coffee), her stomach rumbled when her nose caught its scent. Jace, who had clearly heard, shook his head, smiling.

* * *

The Lightwood's house was silent. Much too silent, even for a Sunday morning. Max's mum wasn't home because she'd gone out for a business related thing that he didn't really care about, but Izzy and Alec were supposed to be at home. However, he suspected that both were not at home because as soon as Alec had taken him to his room last night, Max saw Izzy sneak out of the front door from his window, dressed in tall heels and a short skirt. If his mother saw her like that, Izzy would've been as good as dead. Soon after, Alec crept out of the house too.

Max didn't know if they had come back sometime later, but the house was silent now and he didn't expect that they had come home. Still, he went to Izzy's bedroom, to check. As soon as he opened the door, the scent of her vanilla perfume hit him. Across her floor were countless items of clothing and her vanity table was a mess of makeup and makeup wipes. Her bed was just as messy as the rest of her room and was covered in clothes and jewellery which made Max assume that she hadn't slept in it at all last night.

Next on his list was Alec's bedroom. Although his room was a lot more neater than Isabelle's, it was still slightly messy. His faded sweaters were scattered on his bed and slung on the back of his chair. His bed was made but looked as if he hadn't touched it for a while. Max turned around in a circle and then jumped suddenly.

Something had hissed. Like some sort of animal. His heart rate calmed down when he realised that it was just Yossarian, Simon's fluffy white cat. He was in the corner of the room, hiding under Alec's desk. A bowl of food and water had been laid out in front of the desk but it was empty.

Max slowly approached it, crouching down outside the desk, beside the place where the chair would usually be tucked into. "Hello," he said softly. The cat hissed at him. Perhaps he was hungry, his food bowl _was_ empty. Carefully, so that he wouldn't scare the cat, he picked up a bag of treats and poured some into his hand. Then he took a few careful steps back, to let the cat have space.

Yossarian didn't come out immediately, he stayed at the mouth of the table and then suddenly he darted out of from under the table and sprinted across the room so quickly that Max leaped back a few feet.

Yossarian perched on top of one of Alec's sweaters, looking at Max with his yellow eyes. Slowly, Max knelt down, holding out his hand with the treats piled in it. Yossarian continued to look at Max suspiciously for a few minutes but Max didn't back away this time. He stayed in that position (though his arm was starting to ache) until the cat started advancing on Max.

The cat gave him one last last look before he bent his head over Max's open palm and slowly began to eat the treats. Max was terrified that it was going to bite his hand with those teeth, but he didn't. In fact once he had finished eating he rubbed his head against Max's palm and started purring.

"So are we friends now?" he asked him.

* * *

Clary and Jace were waiting in line for the Crooked House, the only people in front of them a bunch of kids. The actual outside of the house looked as if someone had built it blindfolded and the house was quite true to its name.

"I think this is for kids," said Clary.

"Your point? You look like one and I'm your accompanying adult."

"Ha, ha. Very funny," said Clary sarcastically. She didn't think that they'd be allowed in because they were definitely the oldest people in line.

"They're not going to let us in you know," said Clary. "This place looks as if it were built for people who are four feet. We're a bit over that."

"Actually, _I'm_ over that. _You're _not."

"I'm 5 foot 2," said Clary, as they stepped forward so that they were now at the front of the line.

"Two tickets please," said Jace. The guy standing by the entrance raised an eyebrow but said nothing as he took their money.

Once they had paid, they stepped inside the dark interior of the house. There was a narrow, steep staircase that turned unexpectedly every now and then that they climbed first and Clary had to hold the rail beside her to keep her balance. She could feel Jace right behind her and they kept bumping into each other in the dark.

"I thought this was supposed to be fun," whispered Clary.

"I never said that."

Suddenly, they turned another sharp corner and were in a room lit by a dim purple light coming from the wall. Clary could make out a bunch of kids surrounding the source of the purple light and another bunch huddled in the corner where they were pressing numerous buttons that emitted different sounds.

"You did not wake me up to see this," said Clary disbelieving.

"Okay, maybe it was better when I was a kid," admitted Jace.

They headed over to the purple light and saw that it was coming from behind a glass screen which held a a cutout man waving his hand and wearing a freakishly large grin.

"Well this is just disturbing. If I were ten I'd have nightmares for months," said Clary.

"You know I actually don't remember any of this last time I was here," said Jace as they continued their journey.

"So what do you remember?"

"That it was fun," said Jace, laughing.

"And even that was wrong."

They were in yet another room with another cutout man but this time he was in a kitchen waving his knife and not his hand.

"Wait, you said that you went here as a kid, but didn't you used to live in France?" asked Clary.

"Yeah I did."

"So you went on holiday here?"

"No."

Maybe it was the lack of sleep that made everything that Jace had just said make no sense whatsoever, but Clary had gone through many a school day on less sleep than last night.

"What?" she asked, confused.

"So I was born here, lived here until I was around nine, then I moved to France and then back here a few months back."

"Oh cool. Why did you go to France?"

They were going down a narrow hallway now, who's floorboards were uneven which caused Clary to sometimes bump into walls.

"You know, my parents's jobs and stuff," said Jace, uncomfortably. Clary had a feeling he was lying but didn't persue the subject.

* * *

"Do you want a bath?" asked Max to Yossarian. Max had just made himself breakfast, which consisted of cornflakes, and he was now eating it at the table. He wanted toast but no one ever let him near the toaster and he had no idea how it worked. Currently, he was feeling proud of himself because he'd managed to get Yossarian some breakfast which was an already opened tin of cat food because he couldn't open the sealed ones. Yossarian had eaten it in a matter of minutes and was now curled on his lap.

Yossarian sat up and readjusted his body and then went back to licking his arm.

"Oh, is that your bath?"

Yossarian continued licking himself.

He finished off his cereal before he finally got up to put his dishes away. However, as he put his dish in the sink he noticed a little note placed beside it reading: _staying at a friend's for the weekend, see you Monday_. One look at it confirmed that it was from Izzy not only because it was in her handwriting but also because no one else would write the letter 'x' and 'o' that many times at the end of a letter.

Max couldn't tell if it was for Alec or himself but he thought that Alec probably hadn't seen it, otherwise he would've stayed home.

"Come on Yossarian," said Max. "Let's go read my books."

They went into the living room where there was a large oak shelf that Max kept a lot of his books on. Yossarian was nudging his ankle as they went into the living room. Max decided to chose a comic so that the cat would be able to see all of the pictures and not words that it wouldn't understand.

As he picked the comic up, he noticed that it was nearly finished. He'd have to pay a visit to Magnus soon.

Carefully picking up Yossarian, Max read aloud to the small, fluffy, white cat.

* * *

When they stumbled out of the Crooked House, Clary had to shield her eyes from the sun.

"Oh my god that's bright," she muttered. Jace took her arm and said, "You hungry?"

"Not really..."

"Well you didn't have much of a choice," he replied, leading her around a teenage couple, a guy with green hair and a pretty girl with brown skin.

Clary smelt the food he was taking her to before she saw it.

"Are we getting cotton candy?" she asked as the sweet scent of spun sugar filled her nose.

"No, we're getting candyfloss. This isn't America, Clary," he said a teasing edge to his voice.

They stopped behind two small girls buying their candyfloss.

"Yeah, but candyfloss sounds stupid," said Clary, turning to face him.

"And _cotton_ candy doesn't?" he countered.

"What d'you want?" asked the lady behind candyfloss machine. She was twirling her stick in the bowl of the machine in constant circles, collecting all of the small strands of spun sugar from the machine.

"Blue?" asked Jace to Clary.

"Yeah, why not," she replied and the lady turned off the machine and handed them a tub full of pale blue candyfloss.

Jace apparently seemed intent on feeding her everything ar the pier because after the candyfloss (which stained their tongues blue) they got ice cream (Clary regretted the decision of getting a large one) and then they got huge cups of lemonade and _then_ Jace managed to get her to eat a burger. Even though she was now very full, she was very happy.

They had been on a few of the rides on the pier but were now wandering around by the stalls. They stopped at one where they had to knock over a stack of metal cans.

"Hey Clary," said Jace, nudging her. "I bet I can get you one of those."

He pointed to a row of huge, plush animals sitting on a shelf behind the guy in charge of the stall. He was on his phone, and looked as if he hadn't noticed them or was ignoring them.

"Yeah, right. Aren't these things supposed to be rigged?" she said, sceptical. The brown-haired man at the stall continued scrolling on his phone.

"You have to know by now that I don't like following rules," replied Jace. "1 ticket, please," he asked the brown-haired man.

He put his phone down slowly and then took Jace's money. "You get three tries, if you win, anything from the shelf," he said in bored voice as if he'd done this a thousand times and knew what was coming.

"Thanks," said Jace, picking up his first ball. He drew his hand back and hurled it at the tower. He missed which caused Clary to burst out laughing.

"Don't tell me, your hand slipped didn't it?" said Clary.

"As a matter of fact it did," said Jace calmly. This caused Clary to laugh more.

Apparently, he hadn't been lying because the next ball hit the center of the tower causing them to wobble slightly, but not topple over. Jace smirked at Clary.

"If I don't knock it over in the next throw, I won't tease you about being short for the next three days," said Jace.

"And if you win?" asked Clary.

"Well then I have a debt I can collect at any time."

"Yeah but you're not going to hit it," said Clary, turning back to the stall, where the owner was getting impatient.

"I've got a business to run, you kids stop wasting my time, and start throwing that ball," he said. Clary wouldn't really have called his stall a business, he probably only got a couple of pounds at the end of the day.

Jace turned back to the tower and looked at it for a second. Then he drew back his arm, gripping the ball tight, and then hurled it forward.

The tower toppled down.

The brown-haired guy blinked as if this didn't happen often. "Here's your prize," he said gruffly, handing Jace a large stuffed chicken.

"I believe this is yours," said Jace, grinning.

She took it saying, "A stuffed chicken. I'm the luckiest girl in the world, aren't I?"

"Yeah, you are."

* * *

It feels like it's been forever since I last updated (probably because it has) but I scrapped a bunch of what I wrote which I've never done before but I really didn't like it and was kinda getting uninspired. And _then _I wrote something and decided it'd work better in the next chapter (it's got a little bit of Alec, Magnus and Max). But I hope you like this chapter.

Also, shout out to SkyBell1272 and Jling for reviewing six times, and thanks for every review.

Hope you enjoyed reading :)


	16. 8 Days Left

All in all, Jace's high school wasn't that different from hers. Sure everyone wore a uniform and Clary wasn't quite used to everyone around her speaking English in a British accent, but it was mostly the same.

It had been a shock that morning to see Jace in his uniform and not casual clothes.

She'd been sitting downstairs, eating her breakfast alone. Thankfully Mrs Montclaire wasn't there otherwise Clary had a feeling that they would have spent the entire meal in an awkward silence.

She had then heard Jace's footsteps in the hallway and had turned around to say hi when she noticed what he was wearing. He had on a navy blue blazer, with a striped white and blue tie and although his hair was still slightly untidy, he still looked neat. Clary had then felt very underdressed in a t-shirt and shorts.

However, now that she was walking around the school she noticed that people had managed to customise their uniforms slightly. Most girls had rolled up their knee-length kilts to make them shorter and some people wore badges on their blazers.

"So what other uniform rules do you have?" asked Clary.

"Well from the top of my head, your hair has to be a natural colour, don't worry I think yours just about makes it. No heels, no obvious makeup, blazers on at all times, except when it's hot. Umm," he looked up at the ceiling. "No jewellery, only black shoes allowed and boys have to wear ties."

Clary's eyes widened. "Jesus, your school's stict."

"Yeah, it wasn't like this in France." They stopped at his locker so that he could put some of his books in it.

"What about when you were younger? Did you have to follow all these rules then?"

"Other than having school uniform, they didn't really care that much," he replied, shoving his books into his locker. Clary felt out of place here, some of the younger students, kept looking at her whenever she passed.

When she'd first seen the younger kids, she'd thought they'd accidentally ended up in the wrong school. Some of those kids hadn't looked older than Max, and he was only eight. Jace had explained that high schools in England mainly had pupils from eleven to eighteen years old. And, no they weren't eight, they just looked younger than they were.

"Come on, it's time for physics," said Jace slamming his door shut.

* * *

To say that physics had been boring was an understatement. The teacher hadn't really cared about Clary doing any work, and so hadn't set her any and back home Clary wasn't doing physics so she had nothing to do really that entire lesson. The teacher had told the class that they had to spend it in silence and so she couldn't really talk to Jace that much. On top of that, she'd left her sketchbook back in her suitcase and couldn't finish off any of her other drawings.

However, Jace had torn a piece of paper from the back of his book for her so she could doodle on it, but still it had been a _very _boring hour. Now, though, it was lunch and the two of them were heading outside to eat.

"Hey Jace!" someone shouted a few metres away. They turned around and Clary saw someone throw their arms around Jace.

"Good to see you," said a brown-haired boy from behind the girl who was hugging Jace.

"Yeah, you two," said Jace. The girl drew back from Jace with a grin on her face and Clary realised that it was Aline Penhallow, the person who she was supposed to get on the exchange. The four of them began walking again, though Clary felt slightly awkward as she didn't know them (with the exception of Jace) but he was deep in conversation with the brown-haired boy.

They were walking across a decently sized field where clusters of students sat on the ground eating. It was still weird seeing so many people wearing the same clothes. The majority of the colours nearby were grays and blues, and the occasional brown. Clary stuck out with her bright hair and different clothes. However, she did see other students from her school occasionally amongst all the people.

"So how do you like it here?" Aline had stepped back from the other two and was looking at her.

"It's okay, I guess," she answered.

"Hmm," she said, awkwardness settling between them. Clary looked away.

"I bet, you're wondering why I didn't go on the exchange," Aline said after a brief silence.

Clary shrugged. "Yeah, a little. I mean, I was expecting you and then suddenly this blond guy's dumped on me instead."

Aline laughed. "I take it your friends with him, huh?"

"Yeah," replied Clary. They were starting to get nearer to the edge of the field which was lined with large bushes. In the places where it thinned, a metal fence could be seen.

"I did want to go to the exchange, don't get me wrong, but my grandad died and we had to go the funeral."

Clary wasn't sure what to say. "Oh, I'm sorry to hear that," she decided on.

"It's fine, I barely knew him and to be honest, I didn't like him that much either." Clary was slightly shocked by her admission and the way that she had said that she didn't like her grandfather so casually. True, her dad's parents had died when she was younger and she also hadn't liked them mainly because of the way they looked down on her mother, but she would never had admitted that. Somehow, it seemed rude to disrespect a dead person.

They had stopped walking and Jace and the other boy were sitting on the grass, laughing. Clary joined them, sitting next to Aline. Aline had taken her blazer off and was now using it to shield her phone from anyone's view. Clary had a feeling she often spent her lunches being the third wheel. She'd spent enough time with Simon and Izzy to know what that felt like.

Picking up her apple, Clary began to slowly eat it as she watched everyone around her, trying to spot Simon. She'd called him last night after she and Jace had gotten home from the pier, but a few rings later and it had gone to voicemail. He had replied to her texts that morning though, saying that he'd been having dinner.

She continued searching the field for him, but instead found a teacher coming in their direction. "Aline!" she hissed, nudging her. "A teacher's coming!"

Swiftly, Aline slid her phone into one of the pockets of her blazer. The teacher, thankfully, hadn't seen her and was instead talking to a group of people a few metres away. Soon after, he left with two phones.

"Good thing you were here, my parents would've murdered me if they had to pick up my phone from here for the third time in the past month and they probably would've murdered me again for getting a detention," she said, bringing her bag towards her.

"So this happens often I take it," said Clary, gesturing to the talking boys and Aline.

"Oh yeah, I'm always the third wheel," she said, pulling out a sandwich from her bag.

"Tell me about it. My two best friends are dating, that's infinitely worse."

Aline laughed. "Well I know for a fact that Sebastian is straight," she said, gesturing to the brown-haired boy. "So I guess they're not as bad as your friends."

In no time at all, Aline and Clary were talking like they had known each other for years.

* * *

Clary was sprawled out on Jace's bed while he was at his desk doing his homework. They had been like this for the past hour, Clary drawing and Jace writing.

When she had walked into his room, she had been surprised. It was neat and looked very plain. It could've belonged to anyone and nothing in it seemed like it was his. She'd been expecting an untidy bedroom. Clary had then headed straight to his bed so that she could draw there.

Yesterday, when they had been by the beach, she had taken a picture of the sea on the way home, hoping to replicate it in her sketchbook.

She picked up her phone again, and turned it on, going to her photos to find the right one. Jace had taken her phone yesterday and had managed to take a picture of her holding the giant chicken as they sat on the train. It had been embarrassing carrying the stuffed toy around and there had been lots of heads turning in her way as she walked past. She didn't know whether it was because of what she was holding, or because of how big it was in comparison to her, which Jace hadn't stopped pointing out. The chicken was currently residing on her bed.

Clary picked up her pencil and began shaping the outline of the sidewalk. She hadn't yet decided whether to add colour to the drawing or to just leave it in pencil.

She couldn't dwell on that problem longer, though, because the door of Jace's room creaked open suddenly, and Clary turned around to see his mum. She hadn't seen her again after they'd gotten back from the park on her first night.

"Jace," she said, softly.

"Yeah?" he asked, turning around in his chair resting his arms on top of its back.

"Could you pick the strawberries, please?" she asked.

Clary had expected that he would have protested a little bit but all he said was, "Sure." His mother left the room, soundless. There was something about her that made Clary feel as if she wasn't entirely there with them.

Jace slammed his textbook shut and got out of his seat. "You coming with me?"

"Sure, I've got nothing better to do," said Clary as she closed her sketchbook and put all her pencils back in their container. Sliding off his bed, she left her stuff on the duvet. She could retrieve it later.

They made their way downstairs and Jace led them to the kitchen where the back door was. He picked up a plastic bowl from a cupboard and followed her outside once she'd gotten her shoes on.

When they stepped outside, the scent of the small white flowers climbing up the trellis on the wall greeted them. At the center of the garden there was a medium-sized pond with a small tree with its branches dangling over it. Waterlilies ringed the corners.

The edges of the garden had large flowerbeds that had a natural look to them as if they hadn't been planted there and had always been there.

They headed over to the left side of the garden which Clary noticed that they held fruits and vegetables, patches of onions and carrots, a group of beans twined around wooden sticks, bushes of raspberries and blackberries and dotted throughout all of the space, apple, peach and cherry trees.

However, Jace led them to the back of the garden where a patch of strawberries had seemed to gone wild and had even started to grow in the cracks of the path. The back of the garden faced a field below them and had a small wire fence that was broken in some places. Behind that was a drop of about two metres onto the rocks at the bottom.

"Get picking then," said Jace, crouching down and starting to drop small, red strawberries into the bowl. "But don't go too close to that edge, the rocks aren't so secure and I rather you didn't take a trip to that pile of rocks a few metres below you."

"So who planted all this stuff here?" asked Clary, gesturing to the garden as she followed Jace into the patch of strawberries and began picking some.

"I don't know, it was all here when we bought the house, my mum just looks after it all now though." He placed a handful of the fruit onto the bowl carefully so that they wouldn't get damaged.

They slowly went further into the patch as the bowl began to get more and more full. "What's your mum going to do with all this anyway?" asked Clary as she threw away a strawberry that had been half-eaten by a slug.

"Make jam or something, this stuff will go off in a few days."

They picked for a few more minutes until the bowl was full. "Okay, I think that's enough," said Jace, pushing back his hair with the back of his hand. "Here, my mum's not going to miss any."

He handed her a red, heart-shaped strawberry.

"Is it good?" he asked when she had finished.

"Yeah, it's good," she replied as they headed back to the house.

* * *

Whenever Max was bored and nobody was at home, he visited the comic book shop with the sort of strange owner and his lazy cat. Right now was one of those times. Having finished his latest comic with Yossarian yesterday, he was hoping that he could get the next one in the series so that he could read to the cat later on.

He'd spent the half hour after he'd woken up trying to collect coins from around the house and he'd been lucky when he found twenty dollars on the floor (it was directly under his father's jacket, but Max could never be sure it had been from there).

He had wanted to call Izzy or Alec, but he didn't know their numbers and their numbers weren't saved on the phone in the living room.

After that though, Max realised that he needed to get to school; he couldn't let them tell his mum he hadn't been going. If they did, Alec and Izzy would be in big trouble for leaving him alone.

For once, he had had to leave the house for school by himself. He'd left Yossarian a huge bowl of food and water and, once he had taken the spare key and had locked the door, he left for school. He'd been hoping ever since that Alec and Izzy would get home soon. It was getting lonely with just Yossarian and his books for company.

Now though he couldn't wait to meet Magnus and properly talk to him about his comic. Magnus also loved the same ones he read, which was understandable since he owned a shop dedicated to comics.

The bell above the door rang when he opened the door, the cold air rushing to meet him. "Magnus?" he called out. He couldn't see anyone, which didn't bother him, the shop usually had few customers whenever he went. Plus, it was just after his school had ended but most high schools had not yet. Still, it was unusual for Max to not be able to see Magnus. His cat had also not been around the last couple of times he had visited.

"Magnus?" he called out again. Wandering the aisles, he started to near the back corner where he could hear something. As he turned, he saw something very surprising.

"Alec?" he asked, astonished. His brother was leaning against the shelves, looking up at Magnus who had a hand braced against the space beside Alec's head. Is this where he'd spent the last two days?

"Alec, what are you doing here?" asked Max again. As soon as Alec saw Max, he sprung away from the shelf, backing away from Magnus.

"Oh, me? I'm buying a comic." Blindly, he grabbed at one from the shelf behind him. He glanced down at it. "Yeah, Teen Titans. I love them."

"Really?" asked Max disbelief clear in his voice. "Who's that then?" He pointed at the cover.

"Oh, um, Batman?" Magnus was shaking his head from the corner of Max's eye, trying to hide a small smile.

"No! He's not one of the Titans!"

Magnus stepped forward, placing a hand on Alec's shoulder which he immediately shrugged off. "He came to visit me. I'm a friend of his."

As a result of Alec's pale skin, the blush on his face was very visible. Max assumed it was from embarrassment, maybe because he hadn't known anything about the comic book he'd picked up.

"You're friends with him?" Max asked in shock. Alec and Magnus had nothing in common. How did they ever become friends?

"Yeah," intervened Magnus. "I used to go to his school."

"Oh," said Max. He'd never really seen Alec with his friends and had always assumed he didn't have any. Alec was the sort of person who seemed to prefer being alone.

"Magnus, do you have any new comics?" Max asked, turning to Magnus.

"Sure do," he said. "Come on, follow me." He put an arm around Alec's shoulders, who looked as if he were trying to leave, and steered them off in the direction of the storage room.

The short trip to it was filled with awkward silence. However, once they were inside, Magnus disappeared behind a stack of cardboard boxes, whistling. As soon as he was gone, Alec turned to Max and hissed, "What are you doing here?"

"No, what are _you_ doing here?"

"Why are you out of the house by yourself? Where's Izzy or Mum?"

"Izzy's been gone the whole day and night, like you've been. And mum's away, she told us. You would've known if you bothered to stay home," Max said, crossing his arms.

"So who's been looking after you?" asked Alec, alarmed.

"Well, it was supposed to be you, but after hide and seek, you left and then Izzy went a few minutes later. It's just been me and Simon's cat."

Alec muttered something that sounded very similar to a swear word, but Max thought this was ridiculous because Alec _never_ swore.

"So you've been looking after yourself? Have you had food? Gone to school?" he asked, crouching down beside him and looking at his face.

"Yes, yes and yes."

"And what about Yossarian? Izzy was supposed to look after him," he said. He still looked alarmed and worried.

"No, she thought _you_ were staying and looking after us. But I've given him food and water and played with him, but he doesn't need a bath, he takes care of that himself."

Alec suddenly enveloped Max in a tight hug. "So you've been by yourself, all alone since Saturday?"

"Yeah." Alec's hold on him tightened even more. "I'm so sorry Max." Alec drew back so that he could look at his face and Max could see how angry he was at himself. Max leaned forward to hug him again. "It's okay. It was just a misunderstanding."

"But I should've at least thought about you, or checked on you," he said through clenched teeth.

"It's okay, Alec," repeated Max. They stayed like that, hugging for a while until Magnus called out Max's name. "I found you the latest copy!" he called. Max stepped back from Alec and went over to Magnus for the comic.

"How much is it?" he asked, digging his hand into his pocket to find the money.

"Free," said Magnus, handing it over. "I'm not taking any money from you."

"Really? But you've already given me one for free," he said.

"It's fine, we're friends aren't we?"

Max looked at Alec and then back at Magnus. "Thank you."

"Okay, now come on," said Alec, taking Max's hand. "We're going home now."

"But I wanted to talk to Magnus about the comic I just read," protested Max, planting his feet on the ground. They couldn't leave _now_. They hadn't even been here for ten minutes.

Alec dragged him towards the door anyway. "That can wait, I need to make you dinner."

"But you don't know how to cook!" Why did Alec want to leave so quickly? There was still a good three hours until dinner.

"I know how to cook, you can come round my house," said Magnus, appearing beside them.

"Yeah, let's go to Magnus's house!" exclaimed Max.

"No we need to go home, Max," said Alec firmly, tugging on his arm.

"You can come another day," offered Magnus.

"Okay," said Max, excitedly. Alec glared at Magnus.

"How about Saturday night, for dinner?" Magnus asked.

"No, Max can't go out that late," said Alec causing his younger brother to scowl at him.

"_You_ get to go out that late, and Mum won't be home that day. Please can we go?" he pleaded.

Alec looked at him sternly for a moment. His eyes flickered to Magnus's and then he finally sighed. "Fine, but only if you don't tell anyone. Mum won't be happy knowing you're going out without her."

"Thank you," said Max, hugging Alec's waist. He couldn't see it, but Alec was smiling very softly down at his brother.

* * *

**Okay, I actually kinda liked that Magnus and Alec and Max bit (not so much the Clace, but I had to set the scene a bit for future chapters). I just found it really fun writing about Max, maybe because everything's different from his perspective. And also I am so surprised about how quick I wrote this chapter but don't get used to it, it's probably a one off thing. Anyways, thanks for reading, reviewing and following! Hope you enjoyed the chapter. **


	17. 7 Days Left

"Now this," said Clary, lifting her arm so that the water could fall onto it, "is more like what I was expecting."

As they were heading to school, it was fairly early in the morning (a very bad thing in Clary's opinion, she'd never really been a morning person). Another downside though was that it was now pouring with rain. The sky from which it fell from was as grey as the stone pathway on which they were walking on. Puddles of all sizes littered the ground of the path as a result of the cracked, unevenness of it.

"It's not like this often," said Jace. "I haven't seen a rainy day for, like, a month."

"That's because you've barely been here for the past month," she retorted. "I really wish I'd brought that coat with me." The only protection that they had from the rain was the single umbrella that they were huddled beneath. Jace was holding it as, he had pointed out, she was too short for it. He had wrapped his arm around her shoulders to so that they were both protected by the umbrella. Somehow, Jace holding her was _a lot_ different to whenever Jonathan or Simon did.

"No, that coat would've been a mistake. How would your giant chicken ever fit in your suitcase then?" said Jace. They had stopped at the side of a road and were waiting for the flow of cars to disappear or for one of them to slow down.

"Of course, that chicken means more to me than life itself," said Clary, sarcastically.

"Naturally. I won it," said Jace. They watched as another car drove past without stopping. She was starting to get impatient now, not to mention cold.

Clary groaned. "Isn't there another place to cross with less cars? My shoulder is getting wet now." She could feel the water seep through her jacket and then her t-shirt and now her skin was feeling cold and unpleasant.

"Nope, this is the quickest way," he replied, turning to look at her shoulder. "Here." He pushed her ahead of him slightly so that she fit better under the umbrella and that her back was pressed against his front.

"Hey, I can still see over you, midget," said Jace, resting his chin on her hair.

Clary didn't reply. If she had been aware of Jace's presence before, she felt as if every nerve in her body was aware now. She watched as another car drove by, but this time it was closer to the curb and this time it drove straight through a puddle that caused the water to spray upwards... all onto Clary. She was now soaked. Almost all of her body was wet now.

She stumbled backwards into a laughing Jace and turned around angrily to face him.

"How did none of it touch you?" she exclaimed. Jace laughed, saying, "Because you're a pretty good human shield."

"Oh, I'm gonna -" She snatched the umbrella out of his hand suddenly and shoved him under a thin, steady stream of water that was sliding off of a roof.

For a moment, he stood there, shocked, with his hair now plastered to his face. Clary stifled a laugh behind her hand. He took a step towards her, wiping his sleeve across his face.

"Uh uh," she said shaking her head, "we're even now."

"I guess I deserved that, didn't I?" he said, walking towards her.

"Yeah, you did."

He paused in front of her, closer to her than he ever had before, looking at her with his mouth slightly open. He lifted his hand slightly just as a voice from Clary's left said, "What happened to you guys?"

Clary turned and saw that it was Aline walking towards them, under a small, transparent umbrella. She looked between Jace and then Clary's close figures silently. Clary took a step back from Jace.

"I was standing too close to the curb and a car soaked me," said Clary, turning to Aline.

"Right," Aline said, shifting her gaze from Jace to Clary.

"But you're going to need some dry clothes now," said Jace. "It's just my head and blazer that's wet." He took the umbrella out of Clary's hand and took shelter beneath it.

"Hey!" she said, reaching out to snatch it back. He moved out of the way. "You're already soaked. A few more minutes of rain won't make a difference." Clary knew they couldn't go back to Jace's house to get clothes for him as it was about half an hour away by foot. She guess it did make sense for one of them to be wet rather than both.

"Hey, Clary I've got some clothes in my bag if you want to borrow them," said Aline, suddenly. "I was going to go out with some friends after school, but she just told me she can't."

"Thanks," said Clary.

"It's fine. Any friend of Jace's is a friend of mine."

The rest of the five minute walk to school had a different sort of atmosphere. Clary didn't feel as comfortable with Aline as she did with Jace. Although the two girls had spent most of lunch yesterday talking, she still wouldn't joke around with Aline the way she and Jace did with each other.

When they walked through the front doors of the school, Clary was met with many curious looks. Sure, it was pouring outside but no one else was _that_ wet. Clary looked as if she'd taken a bath with her clothes on.

"There's a bathroom over here," said Aline, tilting her head in its direction. "You can change in there."

"I'll be at my locker," said Jace. "You can show her the way, Aline."

"Sure," she said as she and Clary headed over to the toilets.

Inside, it could've been one of the ones at Clary's school, though it was small and only had two cubicles. Luckily, there was no one else in the bathroom but the two of them.

Aline placed her bag down next to the sink and pulled out some clothes. "They may be slightly too big for you, but I mean it's better than nothing."

Clary took them as Aline said, "I don't have any shoes though, sorry. But maybe Jace has his trainers in his locker."

"Trainers?"

"Sneakers," clarified Aline even though Clary knew what they were and was just trying to imagine wearing Jace's shoes all day.

"Thanks for everything," said Clary, locking herself in one of the stalls.

"I already told you, it's fine."

Clary unfolded the clothes to get a proper look at them. They were just a pair of denim jeans and a tight tank top which made Clary _very_ glad. She thought Aline would have been the sort of girl to wear short skirts like Izzy.

She pulled off her wet jacket and her damp top, hanging them on a peg on the back if the door. Her skin felt slightly sticky with the moisture but that couldn't be helped. Once she slipped into the shirt, she pulled on the jeans. They were looser than they were intended to be. As was the top. The neckline hung lower than she liked and she felt exposed. Clary sighed. She guessed it couldn't be helped. Slinging her wet clothes over her arm, she unlocked the door and stepped out to see Aline standing against the sinks, on her phone.

She looked up when she heard Clary. "It's a bit big for you, but it's better than wearing any of Jace's clothes."

"Yeah, thanks for this."

Clary went over to the mirror and examined her hair. It, like her clothes, was wet and she could feel tiny cold droplets of water drip onto Aline's shirt.

"I guess you can put it under the handryer," said Aline, laughing a little.

Clary did too, waving her hand beneath it to get it to start. "I never thought I'd be drying my hair by a handryer at school."

She bent down at an awkward angle to begin drying her hair.

"Aren't you going to be late for your lesson," said Clary over the loud sound of the handryer.

"Nah, I've still got about twenty minutes. Besides I wanted to tell you something."

"Sure, what is it?" she asked. She turned her head to face Aline properly.

"I just wanted to say that I don't think you and Jace would be good together." Suddenly, every thought in Clary's mind stopped. Her and Jace. Why would Aline even _think _of that?

Aline held out a hand at Clary's shocked face. "Don't deny it. I've seen the way Jace looks at you." _How does Jace look at me?_ thought Clary. "I know Jace," continued Aline, "and I don't know you too well, but I'll tell you this: he wouldn't be serious. He's a good friend, but anything more I don't think he'd be good. He's dated a few girls since he's been here, and you don't seem to be like those. But like I said, I don't know you too well."

Clary was silent for a moment. Why was Aline telling her all of this? She'd have understood if it had come from someone closer to her, like Izzy, but what did Aline gain from this?

"Thanks, but me and Jace are just friends, that's it," she said, finally. Her mind was still trying to wildly process everything Aline had just said and her reasons behind it.

"Whatever you say," said Aline, leaning against the sinks and going on her phone once again.

* * *

Clary had her hand resting against her palm, staring out of the window at the rain hitting the window pane. Some of the water droplets were faster than others sliding down with the grace of a snake but with a calmness that a snake did not possess. Others went slowly, more like snails, occasionally colliding into other drops of water.

Clary spent a lot of the lesson staring out of the window, thinking about what Aline had said. Could it really have been true that Jace would never have taken her seriously in a relationship?

As soon as she'd think that, she'd immediately tell herself off for having those sorts of thoughts. She and Jace really were just friends. However, for the sake of truly trying to see if Aline's statements were true, she allowed herself the opportunity to think of Jace as anything other than a friend.

Immediately, the main thought she had was, _this would never happen. Jace and I are just friends._ Soon after however, a small, quiet part of her brain that wasn't heard often said that maybe she did like him more than just a friend.

When she'd first seen him, she hadn't liked him that much. She had assumed a lot about him, and had based her thoughts on those assumptions. Now, however, she felt as if she did know him, and she liked the person she knew. A part of her denied how _much _she liked him.

"Hey, Clary. You good? You've been staring out of that window for the past five minutes and I know there's nothing interesting out there except for a couple of old bins," said Jace, looking up from his history book. Unlike the physics lesson yesterday, everyone was allowed to talk while they worked in this lesson, but like the physics lesson yesterday Clary wasn't expected to do any of the work.

"Yeah, I'm fine. Just thinking, you know about what to draw, but I think I'm just going to finish off some sketches," she said, bending down to pull out her sketchbook from her bag.

"Now I know how you felt when I just spent the entire lesson doing nothing, and you had to work," said Jace, flipping through pages of his history textbook.

"I would offer to help, but I think I'd rather draw," she said.

"Thanks," said Jace, rolling his eyes.

While flipping through her sketchbook, Clary saw the drawing that she'd done of Jace when he was lying on the grass. It was mostly finished. She'd coloured in his face and hair and the only thing now left was the grass. She supposed she could do that now.

"Woah," said Jace and she saw that he was peering over her shoulder to look at her piece of art. "Is that the drawing you were doing last week at lunch?"

"Yeah, the one I was doing when you were there," said Clary, digging around in her pencil case to find the right colours.

"I knew you were good, but I didn't know you were _that_ good," he said in awe of her drawing.

"Really?" She turned to look at him properly. Simon and Izzy never really commented on her sketches and her mum said they were good, but she couldn't exactly say, "Clary these sketches make me want to pour bleach onto my eyes".

"No, seriously. These are crazy good. Can I see the rest of your drawings?"

She hesitated for a moment. Sure, she showed people her work, but that was the work she wanted them to see. Her sketchbook was more personal. It had bad pieces of work, unfinished ones and ones that she didn't want anyone else but herself to see. But she didn't want to say no to Jace. And she also felt like he wouldn't judge her.

"Sure," she said, handing it over to him. He opened up the book to the first page, which was blank.

"Why'd you skip it?" he asked.

"It's the first page. It's got to be something really good. I just don't have any ideas yet," she said.

"And am I not good enough for the first page?" he said, raising his eyebrows.

"Hell no. Your nose is way too big," she said, playing along.

He rolled his eyes, but he was smiling. On the next page, Clary had drawn a bunch of rough sketches of people, to work out different proportions and stances.

Jace continued flipping through her book for the next few minutes, saying nothing. He looked through the whole thing with a smile on his face and occasionally he would linger on a page looking at it more closely.

Finally, he spoke when he stopped at the page where Clary had sketched the drawing of that small pond in Central Park.

"Hey, I was thinking maybe you could paint this for me on my wall, I mean you don't have to, but my grandma's going to start asking us to go to places, like the museum and stuff, so I thought maybe you could at least do something you enjoyed."

"Okay, sure," said Clary. Her mind was already working out how to do the painting and what supplies she needed. Soon though, she saw the fault in the plan.

"But I don't have any of my paint or anything. I've just got this pencil case," she said, gesturing to its worn blue covering.

Jace waved a dismissive hand. "We can go out shopping for them. That would take up time for another afternoon that we would've otherwise spent in a museum."

"I never thought you'd actually listen to your grandma," said Clary, taking her sketchbook back so that she could finish the sketch of Jace.

"Yeah, well, you don't know my grandma.

* * *

Max was feeling much happier than he had been for the past few days. He, Izzy, Alec and Yossarian were in the kitchen. Izzy was bent over a pan of... something and he and Alec were sitting on the barstools. Yossarian was curled up on Max's lap, sleeping. He hadn't spent this much time with his siblings since the last family holiday they had been on which was last year.

"Izzy, I said we could order something," groaned Alec. "No one wants to eat that nasty stuff."

"Sure they do. It's a culinary masterpiece, right Max?" She turned around with one hand on her apron-clad hip and the other brandishing a spatula.

"More like a culinary disaster-piece," Max said, looking up from his comic book. He could see Alec trying I hide a smile.

"Rude. He gets it from you, Alec," she said, turning back to the stove.

Alec shook his head, smiling slightly. Max rarely saw Alec smile and decided that he liked Alec when he did smile. He looked so weary and tired when he didn't.

"Max is just telling the truth, Iz."

The indignant noise that Isabelle made was lost under the sound of the sizzling of whatever was in the pan. A burnt smell filled the air.

Max covered his nose and then Yossarian's too. He couldn't remember if dogs that had really a good sense of smell or cats, but he didn't want Yossarian to wake up to Izzy's disaster.

"Izzy, just throw it in the bin," said Alec, standing up from his barstool. He headed over to where Izzy stood trying to flip the thing over. From where Max sat, all he could see was a flat, black thing that was beginning to emit smoke.

"What the hell is that?" he exclaimed.

"Alec!" hissed Izzy.

"What? It's true."

"Don't say that word in front of Max!"

"What? He-" He stopped when he saw Isabelle's glare.

"Fine. What the _heck_ is that? I don't see the point of saying 'heck' though, Max has already heard you swear at least a million times."

By now, a stream of smoke was rising from the pan towards the ceiling, but neither Alec nor Isabelle had noticed. The only person who had was Max.

"Izzy!" he called. She either didn't hear him or had ignored him because she was still arguing with Alec.

"What do you mean what the heck is that? It's a pancake obviously."

"It looks like you just cooked someone's vomit."

The smoke had finally reached the smoke alarm and now the house was filled with loud, high-pitched beeps. Izzy and Alec immediately whipped around and noticed the smoke filling the room.

"Where's it coming from?" asked Izzy, hurrying over to Max who was clutching a distressed Yossarian.

"It's coming from your deathtrap of a meal. Go open some windows."

The two of them (after Alec had turned off the stove) hurried to the far side of the living room and threw the windows open as wide as they could. Alec unlocked the French doors as well before dragging one of the barstools under the smoke alarm and trying to shift the smoke away from it with his hands. Max handed him his comic book reluctantly and soon the alarm stopped its annoying sounds.

Izzy was still trying to waft the smoke out of the window and Max, after putting Yossarian safely down by his feet, helped her.

It took a while for the room to completely clear itself of the smoke, but, after a lot of waving objects around and hoping that the smoke would just leave, the room was clear enough that it wouldn't trigger the alarm. And once that had been sorted, the four of them went back to the kitchen island.

"I think we should just order some pizza," said Alec, tiredly.

"Before Izzy, sets the house on fire again," added Max, stroking Yossarian's fluffy head between his ears.

"Well if Alec wasn't using such foul language -" began Izzy.

"You're sounding like Mum," said Max. That immediately shut Isabelle up. She went over to the stove and picked up the pan. Even she had to grimace at the sight of what was in it.

While Isabelle started scrubbing away at the pan, humming, Alec ordered the pizza. Max also went to get Yossarian's food (this time it was from a tin that Alec had opened). After a few minutes of Yossarian eating and the sound of the tap running, Izzy finally slammed the pan back onto the table, groaning.

"Careful!" said Alec, from across the room.

"This stuff just isn't coming off of it," said Izzy, fuming.

"How about you try-" Whatever Alec was going to say, though, was forgotten because, just then, the doorbell rang.

"Is it the pizza?" asked Max.

"It can't be, it's only been a few minutes," said Isabelle, but Alec had already left the room. Max, leaving Yossarian with his bowl, went into the hallway to see who it was.

"So I'll pick them up in three days then," said an unfamiliar voice at the door. It belonged to a brown-haired boy around Alec's age.

"Yeah, I'll take care of them," said Alec. In his hands were two cages, similar to the one in which Yossarian had arrived in and by his feet was a bag.

"Thanks. See you Thursday," the boy said, walking down the driveway. Alex closed the door with his elbow and, when he turned around, was met with Isabelle and Max's curious faces.

"What?" he asked, walking towards them. "Can you pick that bag up Max?"

Max obliged, heading towards the cloth bag but Izzy didn't move an inch.

"That better not be what I think it is," she said, arms crossed over her chest.

"I don't read minds, I've got no clue what you're thinking," said Alec, trying to get past her so that he could go into the living room. Max watched the two of them curiously. He really, really wanted to know why Alec had brought two more cats to stay with them. He wasn't really against that idea though, Yossarian could use a friend when he had to go to school.

"Why is there a cat in that cage and why did you bring him home?" asked Izzy, moving to the side to stop Alec from slipping through between her and the doorframe.

"A friend wanted me to look after it," he said. "Now can I go past you?"

Izzy shook her head. "Not until you stop lying."

"It's the truth, Izzy." It probably would've been convincing but his eyes were focused on Izzy's face a little too much, as if he had forced them to stay there and convince her that he wasn't lying.

Izzy sighed and let Alec pass. Max knew that she didn't believe Alec but he had no reason not to trust his brother.

"Mum's going to be so angry when she finds out that you've turned the house into a zoo," said Isabelle, following him into the living room. Max too went with them, bringing the bag along as well.

"She's not going to find out," said Alec. "They'll be gone before she comes back for her holidays."

"If you say so," muttered Izzy, returning back to the sink to attack the pan with the sponge once again.

While Alec started to take the cats out of the cages, Max sat down beside Yossarian, stroking his back. The rest of the evening went by without many problems. The next day, however, was when they started again.

* * *

I apologise for any mistakes in this chapter, which I know has many, but my brain is literally so tired I had to search up what a smoke alarm was (I know, I'm really out of it). But I felt like I wouldn't edit that well if I fell asleep now and did it in the morning. Editing is literally the worst part of this entire story. Also, the idea for Aline warning Clary about Jace was not mine. It belongs to a guest reviewer and I thought that the idea was great, so if you're still reading this (which is unlikely, it's been half a year) thanks for the great idea!

Well,hope you enjoyed anyway and I forgot to ask but if you have any ideas about that favour that Jace can collect from Clary, review it below, I'd love to see your ideas. Thanks for reading :)


	18. 6 Days Left

"It feels like forever since we last properly hung out together," said Clary to Simon.

They were on one of the assigned trips that they went on with their school. Yesterday, they had gone to a museum, but she and Simon had barely talked as the group had been split into two and they weren't together. Now however, they were.

It was the second time Clary had been without Jace for about a week and she had to admit it still felt slightly odd. He'd always been with her, maybe not always beside her, but at most a short walk away.

They were in different cities now.

"We talked before we got onto the plane," said Simon. The two of them were sitting on a bench at the zoo eating their lunch. Clary had finished hers mostly and was sketching as usual. Simon was on his phone.

"Yeah, but that was barely anything," replied Clary. They were quiet for a few moments and Clary closed her eyes, resting her head on Simon's shoulder. He immediately leaned against her head too.

"You tired?" he asked her.

"Nah, just trying to figure out how to draw something. What are you doing, texting Izzy?" she asked, shifting her head to look at his phone. He was reading an online comic book.

"Some things never change, do they?" said Clary, laughing. "But, seriously, how are you and Izzy doing?"

"Good," he replied.

"That's it? Just good?" she asked, incredulously.

"What am I supposed to say?" He stopped and put on a more energetic voice. "Clary I think I've found the love of my life! I connect with her on a deeper level! We're like Romeo and Juliet but without all of the death!"

Clary sat up properly so that she could see his face. "Really? Is that how you feel?"

Simon sighed, dragging a hand over his face. He had returned his phone to his pocket now. "I don't know. I like her, a lot. And she's really cool and all, but I'm not sure about anything else."

Clary shook her head. "I should've been having this conversation with Izzy. If I did, she wouldn't stop talking about you."

Simon smiled slightly, as if recalling something that Clary did not know of. "Yeah, she does have a tendency to talk a lot. But what about you, how've you been?"

"Okay I guess," she said, not really sure what to tell him. A part of her didn't want to say anything on the subject of Jace, he was something personal to her. Which was stupid, she thought, since the two of them were just friends.

"Look who's not talking now," said Simon, nudging her side.

"I haven't been doing anything interesting, really. Just the usual: drawing," she answered.

"Some things never change, do they?" he said, reiterating what she'd said to him. "What about Jace, is he nice? I mean, he looks a bit distant every time I see him."

Clary tried to understand why Simon would ever think that. Jace was the exact opposite of distant but then again, they hadn't spend too much time with other people together. "Yeah, Jace is nice," said Clary. "He's fun to hang out with."

"Better than me?" teased Simon.

"I know you _way_ better than him, Simon." A part of her wished that she knew Jace just as well as she did Simon.

* * *

They were in a large building full of numerous habitats for different types of primates. The air was thick and humid and pressed against everyone like they being wrapped in a duvet. At the far end of the room, a group of children had gathered around a particular habitat where they were allowed to feed the animals inside. However, Clary and Simon were by the orangutan habitat.

"_That_ one looks like you," said Clary pointing to one that was sitting on the ground beneath a tree.

"How does that look anything like me?" said Simon, unimpressed.

"Just look at its face," said Clary. "It's just like yours." She then attempted to recreate the orangutan's facial expression.

"You look constipated," stated Simon.

Clary poked his side with her elbow. "Ow, your elbow's pointy," he muttered as she said, "You know you just insulted yourself, right?"

"How? I do _not_ look like that. But _that, _that one looks like you." He pointed at a bunch of small orange monkeys, under a foot long, who were inside a different cage, this one full of trees and ropes.

"The Golden Lion Tamarin," read Clary from the small board displaying facts about the monkey. She tilted her head to the side. "How the hell do I look like that?"

"I mean just look as its fur, it looks nearly as wild as your hair, Fray," he said, dodging her hand that was about to shove him. "And I haven't even started on its height yet." He laughed and ducked as she tried to shove him yet again.

"Why does everyone always insult my height?" she asked, giving up on her attempt to shove Simon into the wall.

"What do you mean everyone? I'm the only one who makes fun of your lack of height," said Simon, returning to his place beside Clary but there was now a foot gap between them.

"But the amount of times you make fun of me, it's like multiple people are," she said, avoiding any mention of Jace. "And anyway, shouldn't we be making fun of your height?" She smirked. "Doesn't Izzy have to bend down to kiss you?"

"No, actually, we're the same height," said Simon, defensively. He wouldn't speak about that topic, however, for the rest of the trip around the zoo.

* * *

When Ms Montclaire had heard about the painting that Clary and Jace were going to make, she told them she had a box of paints in the garage. This surprised Clary slightly as she couldn't imagine Jace's grandma with her permanent look of disapproval on her face painting. Jace, though, told her that she used to paint with watercolours a lot and once tried to paint a mural on his bedroom wall at their old house.

"It didn't go well though," he said, turning on the light of the garage.

It was devoid of a car but was filled with lots of other stuff packed away in cardboard boxes and stacked against the walls. In the far right corner, there was, unmistakably, a motorbike hidden under its cover.

"Who's is this?" asked Clary as she walked over to it and pulled back its covers. She couldn't imagine who would drive it

"Mine," replied Jace, walking over to where she stood.

"But I thought you're not old enough to drive yet," she said, running her hand over its seat.

"Yeah, here I'm not. But when we lived in France I was and I had a licence. Though technically it's my mum's now, it's under her name and everything," said Jace.

"Your mum drives this thing?" Clary was astonished, his mum definitely didn't look like the type of person who'd be sitting on its seat.

Jace laughed slightly, but it was more of an exhale. "Not anymore, but she has a licence."

As he headed over to the opposite wall to search through the boxes, Clary placed the cover back on before joining him on his search for the paints. The boxes that Clary looked through were mainly full of old clothes and other pieces of junk. However, she finally found what she wanted when she pulled a long rectangular box away from the pile. Inside, in long, neat rows were all of the small paint pots, dried paint encrusted on the sides and lids.

"Hey, I found them," called Clary. Jace was searching through a cupboard a few metres away.

Opening one of the small tubs, she was immediately greeted with the strong scent of it, a scent that Clary enjoyed. It reminded her of her mother. Tilting the the paint to the side, she looked inside to see if it had separated or dried, but it seemed in perfect condition to her.

As Jace sat beside her, he stretched his arm across her body to grab one of the tubs. "We need to look through them to see if we have the right paint colours," said Clary. She pulled out her phone, unlocked it, and went to the list of all the things she needed to paint the mural.

Jace read through the list of colours and then nodded. "But, all of this other stuff, the rollers and paintbrushes, we need to buy. The paint's dried in all of my grandma's ones," he said, picking up a thick, black brush which had paint all over its handle and bristles.

* * *

"Okay, so some small rollers," said Clary reading from her phone. "And some of those, thick chunky paintbrush thingys. Yeah those ones," she said in reply to the ones that Jace had just held up.

"Thick, chunky paintbrush thingys. You know for an artist I'd have thought you'd know the name of them," said Jace, shooting her a sideways glance.

"I draw. I don't paint walls, well not often that is," said Clary, examining another paint roller before deciding that she may as well get it. After she chucked it into her basket, they headed over to the cash register where there was no one in line and the two people waiting for customers were talking.

"So how often do you actually do murals?"

"Well, I've never done one by myself, it's always been with my mum. We did one a few months back at Luke's bookshop."

"Your mum's fiance?" asked Jace.

"Yeah," replied Clary as she gave one of the teenage boys (a guy with light brown skin and blue eyes) behind the cash register her basket. The other boy had a mullet and pale skin that made his black hair stand out, he watched the two of them with a slightly annoyed expression.

_Well he's welcoming, _thought Clary.

"Is that all you need?" asked the blue-eyed boy, giving her a flirty smile. She saw Jace glare at him from the corner of her eyes.

"Ignore him," said the other boy. "It's what I always do. That'll be eight pounds and seventy pence." He slid her stuff across the counter and she picked it up after she'd dropped the right amount of money into the boy's hand.

"Come again!" called the blue-eyed boy as Clary and Jace headed over to the door. She could hear the other boy muttering something angrily to his partner as they left the hardware store and stepped outside onto the busy street.

Although it wasn't raining anymore, it wasn't sunny either and the cloudy sky was empty, like a blank piece of paper. Underneath it, a row of small shops stood, each one of the storefronts decorated in a different way. She saw a jewelry shop with elegant carved wood bordering its large window and also saw a second-hand electronics shop with flashy LED lights that changed colours every few seconds. The road separating the two sides of the street was narrow and only wide enough for one car to drive down it.

"We still need to get some dark blue paint and smaller paintbrushes, so if there's an art store here..."

"Yeah, there's one a bit further into town," he said. "But we need to hurry, the shops are gonna close soon." Together, they walked down the street as fast as they could while Clary tried to take in as much of what was around her as possible.

The trip to the art shop didn't take that long, only a few minutes. Luckily, the shop had not yet closed, but the two of them were still the only customers there.

The first aisle they walked down only contained a variety of pencils (Clary itched to look through them and buy some but she managed to resist the urge). On the next aisle they found what they wanted, however. The tubs of paint were arranged in uniform lines like soldiers.

"Dark blue, dark blue," she muttered, eyes searching through the rows.

"Is this the one?" asked Jace suddenly, holding a tub between his index finger and thumb.

Clary took it and looked at the small strip of colour that ran across the side of the tube. "Yeah, this looks good," said Clary. "Now we just need some thinner paintbrushes, you know for all of the finer details."

She pointed to the rack above her head where she could see them hanging, just out of her arm's reach. She felt sure that Jace was going to notice this and tease her about her height, but for once he didn't and simply pulled them off the rack. She wasn't quite sure if he just hadn't noticed or simply had decided not to bother her.

* * *

Jace had said that he was going to show them something, and he knew that Clary thought that they were going out on a trip similar to the ones they had in New York. He had placed one hand over her eyes so that she couldn't see where they were going and he had been surprised by her hair in doing so. Naturally, it was all about her head, all untidy and some of it had fallen across her forehead so that he could feel it. It was much softer than it looked was what he had just learnt. Not that Jace thought about how soft her hair was, it was merely an observation, and thinking that her hair felt nice was another observation.

"Okay, hold my arm here," he said, as they approached their destination. They hadn't been walking for too long, it was only a few minutes from the art shop and Clary had only been blindfolded for one of them.

He held out his arm for her to take so that he could lead her along the narrow path and so that she wouldn't fall into a pile of nettles.

Clary surprised him yet again.

Instead of holding his arm, she held his hand, slipping her fingers between his and holding tight.

Jace stopped. Breathing and moving.

After only a few moments of him being frozen, he quickly regained himself and led them the five steps down the path to where he wanted them to go.

"You can open your eyes now," he said, taking his hand away from her eyes, brushing through her hair.

"Really?" she asked, unimpressed when she saw where they were. They were standing in front of a medium-sized river with the opposite bank full of reeds which looked like vertical slashes of green paint against a dark background. The water of the river was mostly dark and occasionally reflected flashes of the sky above them. Jace knew Clary hadn't been expecting this.

"Is this what you wanted to show me?" she asked, confusion colouring her voice.

"Nah, I just wanted to get something to eat." He placed his hands on her shoulders and turned her around to show her a small cafe with outdoor tables.

A few minutes later, they were seated with a plate of scones between them and a drink each.

"I still think you should've bought some tea, you know for the proper English experience," joked Jace.

"Why didn't you get any tea then?" she asked before taking a bite out of her scone.

He shrugged. "It's not really my thing. In actual fact I don't even like scones that much, I don't even remember the last time I ate one."

Wiping some of the cream off her chin, Clary laughed. "The disrespect to your nation."

"I'm not fully British. My mum's from France. Je parle français, Clary. Please tell me you remember what that means, Clary." He looked at her from over his cup, smiling slightly.

"Oui, je parle un peu de français," she replied, smirking.

He grinned at her properly. "Well at least you remembered some stuff."

"So what about when you were in France, were you disrespectful then?"

"Me? I was the very definition of patriotic, croissants for every meal," he joked. In a more serious voice, however, he added, "But, honestly my mum barely bought any, she didn't really like them."

They lapsed into comfortable silence again, silence in which Clary brought out her sketchbook and Jace spent his time looking anywhere but her. Whenever his mind was unfocused, his eyes would often stray to her without him even noticing until a bit later. This had been happening increasingly more often with his thoughts as well, they would just wander over to her, thinking about some random time he had spent with her or just thinking _about_ her.

He supposed it was because of how much of his day he was with her. It would simply feel absurd if she wasn't there, like it had yesterday when she had been at the museum or today at the zoo. He had kept thinking she'd be beside him and, when he looked, she wasn't there. Which, he had to admit, was slightly disappointing. Maybe a lot more than slightly.

And maybe that was because Clary was different to most girls. Most of them just wanted to flirt with with him (with maybe the exception of Aline, but she wasn't straight or single) but Clary had never looked at him like all reason and thought had flown out of her mind.

She looked at him equally. She didn't look at him like she judged him on how he looked on the outside like she had done at first, she didn't judge him on anything but himself now, not his family, not his looks. And for that, Jace really, really liked her.

* * *

The only reason why Clary dragged herself off of her bed when she was trying to add to her drawing of Central Park was because she was so thirsty now that it wasn't something she could ignore. And also maybe the muffled sounds of a piano drifting through the walls had caught her interest, but mainly it was her thirst.

Once she had opened the door of her room, she could hear the sound of the piano more clearly, and she may not have been a musician but she could tell whoever was playing it had skill. As she came down the stairs, she saw through the doorway of the living room that it was Jace, bent over the keys with his back to her. She decided she'd go see him after she'd done something about how thirsty she was.

As it was not yet too late, there was no light on in the kitchen, however there was someone bent over the table, frozen in place. She recognised that it was Jace's mum from her pale blonde hair. Even as she took steps closer, his mother didn't turn around and it was only when Clary had stopped by her that she saw what had his mum's attention.

There was a thin trail of blood across her chopping board seeping into the onions that she had been cutting and staining them red. A tear fell onto the board.

"Are you okay?" asked Clary immediately, and then regretting what she'd said because did it look like she was okay? Jace's mum didn't say anything.

"Ms Montclaire, do you need a bandage or something?" asked Clary. This time his mum looked at her, straight at her with a strange intensity in her eyes despite the tears filling them. She wasn't sure whether the tears were from the onions or the blood. A part of her suspected that it was the onions

"Mrs Herondale," she said, her tone sharp.

"What?"

"Mrs Herondale," she said again, firmly. "And thank you Clary, but I'm fine."

* * *

"Remind me again why we're doing this?" said Izzy, yawning. For the past half an hour, both her and Max had been sitting on his windowsill, looking outside at the garden. It was a bit later than ten o'clock and it was starting to get hard to see things out there.

"Because if you don't, I'll tell Mum you left me alone at home for two days," said Max. "Now keep looking."

"Firstly, it was only one day. Secondly, Alec was supposed to look after you and thirdly, aren't you a little young for blackmail?"

Max shook his head so that his black hair (which needed a trim) flung itself into his face. "You certainly didn't think I was young when you left me alone for the day."

Since when was this kid so rude? But, she had to admit, he did have a point and Izzy felt guilty about leaving her baby brother alone.

"Fine, fine," said Izzy. "But how am I supposed to look for a hedgehog if I can barely see anything in the garden? How do you even know there is one?"

"You'll know when you see him, and there is one, I saw it last night," he said indignantly. "Me and Yossarian did."

Izzy rolled her eyes. Ever since Max had first seen the cat, both him and Yossarian hadn't spent any time apart, with the only exception being when he went to school. In all honesty, she thought it was adorable the way her brother cared for the cat and how attached he'd gotten. She'd even sent a few photos to Simon and he'd replied that even Yossarian didn't like him that much and was now calling Max 'a cat whisperer'. She shook her head fondly at the memory.

Right now, she wanted to call her boyfriend but it was _very_ late in England and although she had her suspicions that Simon was awake she didn't want to disturb him in case he wasn't.

So Izzy didn't have much to do while watching for hedgehogs other than check her phone occasionally, hoping for Simon to respond to her last text. She had no idea why Max was so fascinated by hedgehogs but ever since Yossarian had come to stay he'd been fascinated with any animal in their house or garden. And today there were a _lot_ of them.

She thought there were about five more cats that Alec had received today and she had no clue what he was up to. Izzy had given up pestering him for answers and had just straight up ignored him for the rest of the evening. Did their house _look_ like a pet shop?

Max, though, found this new predicament amazing and had spent every minute he could playing with the cats or feeding them, but he still paid special attention to Yossarian and it was clear that he liked the fluffy white cat more than all of the others combined.

Suddenly, the front door slammed shut and Izzy sprinted out of Max's room ("Izzy get back here!" he'd shouted) and ran down the stairs to see who had just come home. Luckily (for Alec at least) it wasn't any of their parents. It was just her brother himself, and another cage in his hands.

"Alexander Gideon Lightwood," she began, not caring about how she was supposed to be giving him the silent treatment, "What are you doing?"

"It's a stray cat Izzy, I had to rescue it," was all he said as he untied his shoes.

"What if it has rabies or something?" she said.

"It doesn't look like it," he said, looking into the cage. "They'll all be gone by tomorrow anyway."

"Where to?" Izzy asked, hands on her hips.

"To their homes," he said slowly as if trying to remind her of all of the arguments they'd had earlier on about the cats leaving.

"I'm not talking about those ones," she said, impatiently. "I'm talking about him!" She pointed to the cage.

"It could be a her."

"I don't care if it's a girl or a boy! Where's that cat going to go?"

"Anywhere but here."

She glared at him.

"I know someone who'll take him in," replied Alec.

"You better," said Izzy. By now Max had crept out of his room and he was standing on the stairs looking between the two of them, Yossarian curled at his feet.

"Is it another cat?" he asked excitedly.

"Don't go near it Max, we don't know what diseases this cat has," warned Izzy.

"It looks fine and healthy to me," said Alec. "A little thin though."

"You didn't steal the cat?" said Izzy, her eyes wide.

"No! No I didn't!" he said quickly, opening up the cat's cage. He took a small grey and white cat (the size of a large mouse) out carefully. "Look, no collar."

Izzy eyed it warily. There was indeed no collar, but it still could've belonged to someone else. However, it _did_ look thin and slightly dirty, but mostly disease-free. Still, Izzy was no vet and she didn't want to go anywhere near that thing.

The cat, as soon as Alec had loosened his grip on it, jumped back into the cage. "I thought cats don't like those things," said Alec to no one in particular.

"Well he probably doesn't like this house then," said Izzy. "Come on Max, let's go back to your room." She took his hand and left Alec to deal with all of his new feline friends by himself. She wasn't going to get herself caught up in that mess.

* * *

Clary was lying flat on her bed staring at her dark room. Her curtains were open to let the breeze pass through to her bed. On the walls in different places, there were patches of light from the streetlights outside the window. On one of the walls there was a large square of light with the moving shadows of a bunch of branches zigzagging across it so that it looked as if that particular patch of the wall was glittering.

Clary couldn't fall asleep. There were so many thoughts flying around in her head that she had no chance of falling asleep anytime soon. At dinner that evening, she couldn't stop looking at Jace's mum (Mrs Herondale she had said) and looking at the cut on her finger. It no longer bled any blood, but it still looked raw. Apparently, Clary wasn't the only one who'd been looking because she had noticed Jace looking at his mother's hand with a blank look on his face.

She was also now thinking about Jace's last name. Had he been lying? Or had he taken his dad's name rather than his mum's? She kept thinking that maybe Jace was adopted. It made sense, really, after what he'd said at Central Park about being insecure about people finding out about his parents.

But that wasn't the only thoughts that she was having. Her mind kept wandering back to what Aline had said and her mind was starting to think about what she'd said about Jace liking her. A part of her still denied anything between them because friends were all they were going to be, next week, he'd be out of her life completely. They physically couldn't be anything more.

She was starting to wish that Aline had never said anything. Aline's words had awoken that part of her that thought she and Jace could be together, that part of her that was in control of her when she and Jace had danced in that storage room in Pandemonium, or when Jace had held her hand at the airport, or they had slept practically on top of each other on the plane or the time when he'd held her waist at the park (and she had really wanted him to continue but hermind had told her to instead swat his hands away).

She groaned. There were a lot more instances of her having a crush on him than she cared to remember. Why was it so weird on her behalf now? She couldn't look at him without thinking of the way she wanted to hold his hand (like she had earlier on) or the way she wanted him to hold her (like at Pandemonium).

Clary's feelings for him ran deeper than she wanted them to.

Sighing, she rolled onto her stomach to bury her head into the pillow. If she could get him out of her mind for a few minutes then (hopefully) she'd be able to sleep. Maybe she needed some music. As she was about to reach for her phone she heard a soft knock on the door followed by someone calling her name.

She froze. It couldn't have been Jace even though the voice was remarkably similar to his but it was nearly twelve now, he wouldn't be bothering her at this time. She must have imagined it she thought, picking her phone up from the floor but then she heard it again. A soft knock. "Clary."

It was unmistakably Jace.

Leaping out of her bed, she rushed to open the door. In the faint light of the hallway she could see that he was wearing jeans and a white t-shirt, a jacket over them.

"So, you wanna go out somewhere?"

"What?" she asked.

"Out somewhere, out of your room, the house, maybe the city, okay not the last one, unless you want to get a bus ride..."

Did he not realise that it was nearly midnight and he'd given her no warning that they were going to go out? _Not like out on a date_, she thought. Just like what they used to do in New York. She scolded herself internally for even thinking he'd go on a date with her, for thinking they should've gone on a date. But still, she could never say no to his offer.

"Sure," she said, "but, I need to get changed." She gestured to the pyjamas on her body.

"Right," he said, as if he honestly hadn't noticed. "I'll be outside."

As she closed the door, she could hear his footsteps on the stairs. As fast as she could, she pulled on a pair of jeans and zipped a jacket over her t-shirt. She slid her phone into her pocket as she raced down the stairs and out of the house as quietly as she could.

Jace was leaning in the wall outside, looking up at the sky, at the numerous stars, at the moon. There was a wistful look on his face. When he saw her, he gave her a half smile, but she could see his heart wasn't really into it. If only she knew how wrong she was.

"Is this what you wanted to show me?" asked Clary, leaning on the wall beside him.

"Nah, it's a bit further away. Come on."

* * *

I don't even want to speak of this chapter. The last four hours have been a horrifying mess of me accidentally deleting my edited version of this chapter, comforting myself by looking at fanart for over an hour and then grudgingly coming back to fix the mess I made. Anyway...

I was reading everyone's reviews and I feel really rude for not replying to them so, from now one, that's what I'm gonna do.

clacepercabeth4ever: You have no idea how happy you made me feel when you said that you liked my version of Clace, because to be honest, I feel like they're a little occ, but this made me feel a LOT better, thanks!

Guest: Well I hope you like the rest of the story as well.

Guest: Okay, so I was hella happy that someone replied what they think Jace should ask for a favour and I really like your idea but (you probably knew this was gonna happen) your suggestion kinda clashes with my idea, so I wanted to incorporate parts of it, and (if I ever finish this fanfic) I'll add a short scene thing on the end with a your idea in it cause I literally pictured it in my head as soon as I read your review. Hope that okay though :)

SkyBell1272: I really hope the story isn't going to end up being rushed and also about the cats, yeah you've missed nothing, you'll find out soon (unless I decide to quit this fanfic altogether because of how annoyed I still am at myself for deleting my first edited version of this chapter. Seriously though, it was entirely an option, but knowing me I'd come back a bit later, because I'd never be able to abandon you guys, I've read one too many unfinished fanfics)

(Please skip the following paragraph if you do not want to listen to me fangirl)

This is really kinda unrelated but, HAPPY BIRTHDAY LANCE MCLAIN (yes that did need to be written in caps and also I don't know if anyone here has watched vld, but if you have, you probably noticed me stick him and Keith into this chapter because I got bored)

The last thing I wanted to say though was that I have nothing planned for the next chapter other than where Jace is going to take Clary which is only be one scene, so if you have anything let me know. Other than that, thanks for following and favouriting as always :)


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